


Feet On The Air, Head On The Ground

by carolinablu85



Category: As the World Turns
Genre: Angst, Fight Club - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-28
Updated: 2011-10-27
Packaged: 2017-10-25 00:38:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinablu85/pseuds/carolinablu85
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>I want you to hit me as hard as you can.</i> Noah loses himself after losing Luke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the very simple yet very awesome prompt: "Fight Club." Thanks to the movie/book (because I borrow some lines and concepts) and thanks to the Pixies (because my title sort of comes from their lyrics). And thank you for reading!

**PROLOGUE**

 _This is your life, and it’s ending one minute at a time._  He slammed his fist once more into the guy’s face, feeling that sickening satisfaction at the crunch of bone. It would probably take him awhile to know if the break was in his knuckles or the guy’s nose. Either was fine with him. He ducked out of the way just in time to avoid a counter-hit to his mouth. He had to be more careful, one more hit there and he’d probably lose a tooth.

 _Only after disaster can we be resurrected._  He took a second to shake out his left arm, the shoulder still sore from that hit he had taken earlier. He couldn’t remember if it had been from this man or a different one, and he didn’t really care. By the end of the night they always blurred into one long fight anyway. It was all the same to him. They tried to hit him the same, they tried to hurt him the same. They rarely succeeded. Not much could hurt anymore.

 _It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything._  The hit to his ribs sent him back a few feet, but not enough to topple him over. He recovered quicker than the guy expected, clocked him across the temple with his elbow, used his other fist to knock him to the ground. The other bodies around them yelled, maybe cheered, maybe cursed, he didn’t know. When he was here, all noise sounded the same too.

 _When the fight was over, nothing was solved, but nothing mattered._ He leaned down, ready to hit him again, but the guy’s hand was slapping against the dirty ground, sending dust and drying flakes of blood across the floor. There was a time when the sight of blood freaked him out, at least startled him. Now? Now it meant he had done something right. The guy was tapping out. He had won. He straightened, holding out a hand to help the man up. They faced each other, shook hands, and a part of him rolled his eyes at the gleaming grin on the man’s swollen and bloody face. He had just gotten pummeled and he was  _grinning._  What was wrong with these people? What was wrong with him?

There were cheers now, people clapping him on the back, congratulating. He just nodded, drifting to the edge of the crowd, glad when the next fight started up and the attention was off of him. He wanted to soak up this feeling for as long as he could- the relief and release of everything he ever felt. If he put it all out there while fighting, he doesn’t have to feel anything the other twenty-odd hours of the day.

He doesn’t feel anything.

 _I am Noah’s broken heart._

 

 **CHAPTER ONE**

 _Two months earlier..._

For having grown up his whole life confined to structure and routine, Noah was surprised at how much he hated it now. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays he had classes in the mornings, then Java till close. Tuesdays and Thursdays were afternoon classes. Saturdays and Sundays were day shifts at Java. That was all his life amounted to now. He woke up in the morning, did whatever was expected of him that day, went to bed, and woke up again.

For the first time in his life, every decision he made was his own. Affected no one but him. No one cared or noticed either way. It wasn’t independence. That required people to be independent  _from._  This... this was pure, droning, robotic movement. It wasn’t a life, it was just living however he could from day to day. A single-serving existence.

Today was a Friday (he was pretty sure). He ushered out the last of the customers, couples at the end (or beginning) of their night, and fought the urge to glare at their smiles.  _Whatever._  Just get the hell out so he could go back to the apartment and go to bed. Stare at the ceiling until he couldn’t help but fall asleep.

He counted out, straightened up the counter and stockroom, and then clocked out with a sigh of relief. Old Town was still and quiet as he locked Java’s front door. Pocketing his keys, Noah had just taken a few steps when he realized it wasn’t all that quiet. Just up ahead, in the alley between the book shop and the dance studio- the sounds of struggling, muffled shouts.

A big part of him wanted to ignore it- not his fucking problem- but a short yell of pain propelled him forward. Someone needed help, he couldn’t actually let that go, could he?

Turning the corner, he saw two men had a third pinned against the brick wall, demanding a wallet. The guy had put up a good fight so far, but Noah could see one of the attackers reach into a back pocket and pull out a knife.

“Hey!” he yelled, rushing at the knife-guy. He grabbed the arm holding the weapon and twisted until it was forced out of his grip, then pulled the guy away towards the wall on the opposite side of the alley.

The guy getting attacked took advantage of the moment, fighting off his other assailant, but Noah didn’t pay much attention. He kicked the fallen knife away, out of everyone’s reach, and turned back just in time to duck and avoid a punch in the face.

“Dumb idea, kid,” the man snarled, grabbing Noah by the shoulders and shoving him back. Noah managed to get free and threw a punch of his own, connecting with the guy’s stomach. When he bent over from the force of it, Noah hit him across the face, sending him to the ground hard.

A voice chuckled roughly from next to him. “Dumb idea was trying to mug an off-duty cop, asshole.” Noah looked up in surprise.

“Dallas?” Noah looked him up and down, shaking the soreness out of his hand. “You okay?”

Dallas nodded with a half-grin. “Yeah, thanks to you. Nice right hook you got there, man.”

Noah shrugged, eyeing the two men on the ground (Dallas having knocked out the other). “What, um, what do we do now?”

Dallas reached into his pocket. “Let me call this in, see if anyone’s nearby to take these guys.” It was his turn to study Noah. “Can you hang out here for a bit?”

Noah nodded and shrugged at the same time. What did it matter if he was late getting back to the apartment, right? So he stayed with Dallas, as two uniform cops appeared less than a few minutes later. He gave a quick statement and leaned against the wall to watch the two men get cuffed and taken away.

Figuring that was it, he turned to go, but... “Hey,” Dallas stopped him with a hand to his shoulder. “Got some time? Come with me to Yo’s. I’ll get you some ice for your hand, and a beer for your troubles. You know, for saving my life and all that.”

Noah wanted to protest, he really did. He was pretty sure he didn’t actually save Dallas’s life. And he had plans after all- that brooding wasn’t going to get done by itself. But it seemed important to Dallas. “Um, I... okay. I guess.”

“Great,” Dallas clapped a hand onto his shoulder, leading him out of the alley finally and into the bar a few doors away.

A few minutes later they were sitting at a table, small bags of ice pressed to their knuckles and frothy mugs in front of them. Noah took a gulp or two, barely tasting it. Just like everything else, it was bland.

Just like everything else, it left him feeling empty.

But he forced himself to keep drinking, keep up appearances, especially when he saw that look out of the corner of his eye. That look everyone in town seemed to be giving him, that ‘poor little Noah, all alone again, I’ll feel bad for two minutes before I go back to my own life’ look. Dallas was giving it to him now, but Noah had gotten really good at showing he didn’t notice or care. In two minutes the feeling would be mutual anyway, right?

“So where’d you learn to hit like that?” Dallas asked out of the blue.

Noah almost- almost- reacted to the question, managing not to choke on his beer. Instead he shrugged carefully. “My dad. Colonel in the Army, he had me training since I was little.”

“Training?” Dallas echoed, eyebrows raised. “Training for what?”

 _I never found out_ , he wanted to say. It was the honest answer. It was the answer he would’ve given if another person in another time were asking him. Instead he shrugged again. “The Army, I guess. To be like him.”

Dallas shook his head with a grimace. “Well, I for one am glad you’re not. Like him, I mean.” Noah idly remembered that Dallas had been around for the first time the Colonel fucked things up in Oakdale. “For one, you really helped me out tonight.”

“You would’ve been fine,” Noah protested quietly. He didn’t want anyone’s gratitude. It felt as fake as their pity.

“You keep up with boxing or whatever still?” Dallas asked then, studying him with more purpose.

Noah actually looked over at him now, confused by the direction his questions were going in. “When I’m at the gym, I guess. Just with a bag though, not with, um, people.”

“Helps letting out that anger, doesn’t it?” Dallas’s voice was, somehow, gentle without being patronizing. Understanding.

Noah didn’t know how to respond to that. To someone with common ground. “Yeah,” he grunted, taking a few more gulps of his beer. He was already finished the mug.

Dallas was too. He dropped some cash on the table, waving Noah off when he reached for his own wallet. Instead he fixed Noah with a calculated, but hesitant, gaze. “You free for the rest of the night, Noah? There’s, uh... something I want to show you.”

************

 _Weeks later..._

He fell almost listlessly into the chair in the hospital waiting room. He hated hospitals. He hated the off-white walls and off-white tiles and not-quite-green scrubs people insisted on wearing. He hated the disinfectant smell, and voices and mechanical sounds bouncing off the walls. He hated it all.

And he kinda hated that he was a part of it now.

Luke still couldn’t fully believe- two months later- that he worked here. He was on a  _board_ , for fuck’s sake. He was part of a bureaucracy. A group of ‘Old Mustached Money-Bags,’ as he used to call them. He’d used that phrase with Reid once, and Reid had rolled his eyes, said of course they were, that’s a part of the job, the part of the job he hates, and better Luke deal with them than him.

He’d complained like that to Noah in the past, and Noah would make a joke involving some random old movie or the Monopoly guy, remind Luke of the good work he was doing, and offer to cook dinner to make him feel better.

But no. No, no. He wasn’t going down Comparison Road. That would be stupid, and childish, and Luke wasn’t any of those things anymore. Just because Noah would handle some matters differently than Reid would, it didn’t mean anything. He and Reid were something special, Luke could feel it.

And he refused to feel anything for Noah. He refused to dwell in the past like a little kid. He was an adult. He was moving forward.

It was just... sometimes he wished he wasn’t on the Old Mustache Money-Bag Board.

And sometimes his brain didn’t get that memo about not being stupid. He realized just now he was sitting in the same chair he’d sat in during Noah’s surgery, and he (stupidly) let his thoughts wander back to Noah just for a minute. He hadn’t seen his ex since that day at Java when they had kind of argued, and then Noah had come back and told him Reid was leaving town...

Then nothing. He was a little ashamed to admit he couldn’t remember what happened to Noah after that conversation, where he had gone, what he was up to now. It was like he just disappeared. Though it wasn’t Luke was trying all that hard to contact him. See him. Think about him. He couldn’t. If he wanted to move on with Reid, he had to make sure he was done with Noah. Which he was.

He was. He had to be.

He didn’t let his brain conjure up images of Noah, not of his eyes, not of his goofy smile, most definitely not of the look of pain on his face when Luke talked about Reid. He didn’t let his brain conjure up what his hugs felt like. He didn’t let his brain conjure up his voice-

“Ali, I’m serious. Stop freaking out.”

He about ready to glare at his brain when he realized it wasn’t his imagination using Noah’s voice. It was really Noah. He stood without thinking, following it to the hospital break room. His common sense broke in then, and he paused just outside the half-open door, listening in.

“You’re seriously telling me not freak out over this?  _This_?” Alison’s voice was high-pitched, trembling.

“Yeah, I am. I’m fine, okay? This is ridiculous. Can... Can I please go now?” There was something weird about Noah’s voice, Luke couldn’t figure out what.

“No,” she snapped immediately. “I’m getting really worried, hon. If you keep coming home at weird hours of the night, and... and now you’re looking like this? I’m allowed to freak out.”

“I’m fine,” Noah insisted again.

“You keep saying that!” Alison sounded beyond frustrated. “But, God, Noah... you’re not fine. You haven’t been fine since-”

“I have to get to work,” Noah’s voice was soft and steady, but with an undercurrent so tense Luke almost took a step back from where he was hiding. “Can we finish this some other time?”

There was a beat of silence, then Alison answered with a soft, “Sure. I guess I’ll see you at home tonight.” And then she was stalking out of the break room, too preoccupied with frowning to notice Luke standing there.

Which was fine by him. He slid around the corner and entered the break room, not sure if it was curiosity or concern that drove him more. Noah had his back to him, staring at the lockers. “Noah?” he said quietly. It felt weird, like speaking a forgotten language. He hadn’t said that name out loud in so long.

But those thoughts,  _any_  thoughts, flew out the window when Noah whirled around to face him, slight surprise showing on his face before a mask came up. Of course, that wasn’t the only thing  _on_  Noah’s face. His left eye was bruised and a little swollen, his lip cut at the edge. Luke looked down and saw a few scrapes littered across his knuckles.

“Oh my God, Noah. What happened?” He moved forward, barely noticing when Noah moved the same amount of space away. “What- did someone attack you? Was-”

“Leave me alone, Luke.” It wasn’t at all what Luke expected to hear, or at least not  _how_ he expected to hear it. He realized it was the weird thing about Noah’s voice he’d heard earlier- indifference. Somehow not even a little upset or freaked out that he and Luke were in the same room again. Not that Luke was either, of course.

“What happened?” he asked again, even more worried. “And don’t try to tell me you’re fine, I can tell when you’re not.” The way Noah held himself, moved around Luke to get towards the door, Luke could tell his body was sore, causing him pain. “What’s going on? Is someone threatening you, or-?”

He was cut off by Noah laughing, brittle and shallow. “It’s nothing. Go away, please.”

It was so matter-of-fact. He said it as though he wasn’t talking to Luke of all people, but to a stranger. Luke shook his head, trying a different tactic. One he knew was guaranteed to work. “You know, I was on my way to the farm for dinner. You should come. Grandma and the kids, they’ve been asking about you. They miss you.” Emma and the Snyder siblings were totally the ace up his sleeve when it came to Noah.

Which is why he nearly fainted when Noah just shrugged. “I have to work. If they really miss me, send them over to Java. It’s not like I’m that hard to find.”

He stared for a moment, felt that familiar burn of frustration and worry in his gut. “I’m- I’m sorry if they haven’t been around you that much lately. We’ve been going through some stuff lately, some family drama, and I think-”

“Don’t,” Noah gave a quick shake of his head. “Don’t use them as a way to talk to me, or try to make me feel bad, or whatever. Feel free to go talk to your boyfriend about family stuff. It’s not my job.”

He turned to go, face still so carefully blank, and Luke hated it. He needed to figure out a way to get Noah to talk to him. To stay. “Noah...” but Noah wasn’t stopping. “Noah, I...” He couldn’t just let him leave like this! “I haven’t slept with him,” he burst out.

Now Noah stopped. He turned just a little. “Well, congratulations,” he deadpanned. “Why are you telling me?”

“I-I don’t know,” he stuttered. He really didn’t. He searched his brain for an explanation. Shouldn’t a part of Noah at least be a little happy about it? “I thought... maybe... in some way, it would make you feel better?”

In the split second before Noah flinched, Luke realized what a stupid thing that was to say. “So I should thank you, I guess?” Noah asked quietly, still half-way facing the door. “Be grateful?”

“I don’t...” Luke dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands. He hated his brain sometimes, and his mouth.

“I slept with a guy two nights ago, Luke,” Noah replied, so matter-of-fact. “Does that make you feel better?” He swallowed hard. “Are we even?”

It was a punch to Luke’s chest. He drew in a shaky breath, feeling it crack and die in his throat. Too many feelings went through him, and he didn’t want to identify any of them. “Is that how you...” he shook his head, trying to keep himself from drowning. “How did you get hurt, Noah?”

Noah just sighed, and the mask came crashing back into place. “I’m late for work. And this is none of your business. So- please- just leave me alone.” In the time it took Luke to breathe and blink, he was out the door.

Luke’s impulsiveness took over again. He fed into it, wanting it to smother the grief and stabbing pain he might feel otherwise. He hurried after Noah, reaching for him. “Yes it is my business! If someone’s hurting you-”

Noah whipped around, pulling his arm free of Luke. “What does it matter if someone’s hurting me or being nice to me or fucking me? You  _dropped_ me, Luke. Not just dumped. Dropped. Completely. Since that’s what you want, then fine. It’s not your concern what I do, not anymore.”

Luke shook his head, not backing down. “You can’t expect me to just let this- whatever it is- happen to you!”

Noah was glaring at him now, honest-to-god fire in his eyes now, no matter how calm his voice stayed. “You’ve made it very clear that I’m not a part of your life anymore. So guess what- it’s going both ways. Don’t pretend you have the right to  _any_ say in my life, Luke.”

“I was telling you the truth,” Luke insisted, almost a whisper. “I’m always going to care about you.”

Noah clenched his jaw tightly. “No you’re not. You’ll only care about me when it fits your schedule. I don’t want that. At all. I-” he cleared his throat. “I don’t want this.”

Before Luke could ask what ‘this’ was, Noah was gone. Leaving Luke standing in the middle of the hospital hallway, gazing after him, shocked. After a few minutes (hours? days?), he turned to leave.

And then pulled up short, because he hadn’t realized their argument had garnered an audience of a few nurses (one he recognized as a friend of Alison’s,  _shit_ ), and... Reid. The nurses scattered the moment they realized they’d been spotted, but Reid stayed exactly where he was. Staring at Luke.

Luke could only stare back.

************

Another Friday, another day of wanting to scream and tear his hair out for no reason. At least, until 10pm. Then Noah was clocked out and out the door within five minutes of closing Java. He tapped his fingers against his leg as he walked through Old Town; he hadn’t been able to settle himself since his... encounter, or whatever, with Luke earlier today.

He had been doing just fine, getting himself to not care about anything. He could handle that, he knew how to live on his own. But seeing Luke today, talking to him, it had made some of those stupid feelings come sweeping back through.

It was really his own fault though. He had been naïve. He had indulged in some fucking fairytale, one with a soulmate and a family and a group of friends. It was ridiculous, childish, to think that that stuff just happened automatically. No one had told him it would last forever, so it was his fault for thinking it would.

No. Family would only love him for as long as Luke would. Luke would only love him for as long as Luke needed. After that, Noah was on his own.

And he was fine with that.

But Luke had to walk into the break room today, those damn eyes wide and worried. Noah’s first impulse had been to comfort him, and he was so pissed off at himself for that. What was the point? Luke didn’t need comfort. He didn’t need  _Noah_. He’d made that clear in the last two months. It wasn’t Noah’s fault that the one fucking time they'd seen each other had been today, when he was still bruised up from Tuesday night.

It just wasn’t fair when Noah had worked sohard, had practically  _trained_  himself, to be over it. To show he didn’t need anyone. To-

“Noah! Hey, slow down, man!”

Noah mentally jumped (he didn’t physically react to most things anymore) and turned, waiting for Dallas to catch up to him.

Dallas grinned, and Noah forced himself to smile a little back. “You walk pretty fast when you’re distracted,” the man commented casually.

“Sorry,” Noah lifted one shoulder in a shrug, and the two of them walked together towards Yo’s. “I was-”

“Distracted, yeah, I noticed,” Dallas was still grinning. “Good distracted or bad distracted?”

His hands were itching again. He didn’t know if it was in anticipation or in discomfort. “Bad. I think.”

Dallas clapped him on the back. “It usually is. Well, look at it this way, maybe you’ll get a chance to clear your head tonight.”

“Hope so,” he murmured. His hands were definitely burning with it now. He needed this tonight.

They walked into the alley next to Yo’s, past the back entrance into the bar to the door at the end of the path. It was nondescript wooden door. The kind most people would walk right past without caring, if they noticed it at all. Perfect.

Noah followed Dallas as he pushed it open and they walked through near darkness to the room at the end of the hall. The movement and muffled yells from inside told him the night had already started. His right hand twitched. He wanted to hit someone tonight.

When he and Dallas entered the room, he closed his eyes for a moment, letting the sounds and smells wash over him. It was dirty and dark and ugly in here, and Noah liked being in it. It felt like everything inside him made real. He didn’t have to hide here.

He had been so skeptical when Dallas had brought him here those weeks ago. For real, a fight club? How suburban cliché was that? But it was real, and it was exactly what Noah needed. Twice a week, the group of twenty to thirty guys met in this room and let every piece of anger and frustration and aggression out on each other. It was perfect. It was Noah’s drug.

He opened his eyes then and scanned the group, sizing up who was there, who he might pick and who might pick him. Dallas went over to the guys who ran the group, shaking hands and joking around. Noah wasn’t here for that, didn’t care about the pleasantries. Instead he hung back, not watching the current fight but watching the yelling spectators instead.

Finally, he saw one. A new guy. Noah let himself feel a little bit of excitement, more than he felt at any other point of his day. It was a rule here- new guys always have to fight their first night, but they get to pick who they go up against. Most of them end up picking Noah because he was one of the youngest in the group, and apparently he looked the least threatening.

Noah liked that, because he gets to prove them wrong.

Sure enough, an hour later Rob introduced the new guy to the club. Noah didn’t listen for his name; he didn’t care. He just nodded and half-smiled when New Guy pointed at him. The guy was big, but not too agile. He also looked like one of those guys who worked the bags at the gym just to show off, knew a couple fancy combination moves, but had never been in a real fight before. That made Noah smile a little more. It felt weird on his face, almost like a genuine smile.

He stripped off his shirt as he moved forward, tossing it over to Dallas when he held a hand out for it. (It was a rule, after all. No shirts, no shoes in a fight.) New Guy spent some time flexing and grinning, thinking he was being intimidating, but Noah just internally rolled his eyes, stretching out his arms and his back. The guy wouldn’t be grinning in the next five minutes.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rob, Angel, and a couple of the other veterans of the club quietly pass around some money. Whether they were betting for or against him, Noah didn’t know. And didn’t particularly care.

His favorite moment was the second before the fight started. Everyone was hushed, like a vortex sucking all the sound out of the room. It was when Noah’s brain was at its quietest too. He could breathe in and out deeply, like a normal person could, and it didn’t hurt.

Then Rob gave a little nod, and a quiet, “Go.”

He never knew what erupted first, him or the crowd. But within a few minutes everyone was at a fever pitch, and Noah was happily swinging his fist at New Guy’s mouth. He had been right in his initial appraisal. New Guy was strong, but not quick. He knew how to throw a punch but not how to take one. Noah could definitely work that to his advantage.

They fought for several minutes, trading blows back and forth, but he could see New Guy was already starting to grow tired. Noah hastily wiped the moisture off his face, not sure if it was blood or sweat or a mixture of both. Whatever. As long as it wasn’t in his eyes, that was all that mattered. New Guy gasped for air again, and Noah nodded to himself. It was time to end this...

On the other side of the room, Dallas watched with something akin to admiration and shock as once again Noah managed to thoroughly hold his own against an opponent. Not just hold his own, actually. More like kick ass and take names. A part of Dallas still couldn’t believe how quickly Noah had adapted and thrived here.

When he had brought Noah into the club, it had been an impulsive decision. The kid just looked so lost and angry that night, but even worse than that- he looked well on his way to being empty. And Dallas knew what a rush fighting could be and, sensing that same mentality in Noah, had hoped this might help keep some fire alive in him. And it had.

Rob was standing next to him, and he shook his head with a smirk when the new guy Eddie threw a wild punch that Noah easily avoided. He checked his watch. “Another minute and the pot’s mine,” he commented to Dallas, barely heard over the yells of the spectators.

Dallas smiled. He was pretty sure Noah didn’t know it, but the club vets had a running bet every time Noah fought on how long it would take for the other guy to tap out. Somehow, saying barely a word, the kid had become part-badass, part-mascot of the club. He laughed a little, imagining the look on Noah’s face if he ever heard that.

His laughter died when Noah ducked under another hit and punched Eddie hard in the solar plexus.  _Ouch._  Angel apparently had the same thought. He leaned in close to Dallas. “Boy seems extra pissed off tonight, doesn’t he?”

Dallas nodded, wincing when Noah knocked Eddie’s legs out from under him, the man thudding to the ground on his back. The cheering got louder as Noah leaned in and pounded the guy’s face a few times, blood spraying from the Eddie’s nose and mouth.

Dallas narrowed his eyes. Noah wasn’t usually an excessive-force type of fighter, he was methodical and quick most of the time. But not tonight. He had seen it when they met up in Old Town that something was bothering Noah. And he could see it now, in the way Noah wasn’t at all hesitating to kick this guy’s ass.

And he should be a little concerned, he knew that. But, Dallas figured, it was better for Noah to let the anger out this way than keep it bottled up. That was what this place was for. That was what they were all here for. To fight the demons they couldn’t in real life- the stress of a job, problems with a wife, arguments with a brother, or even (looking at Noah) a way to keep from wasting away...

Noah hit him again. Harder.  _Come on, New Guy._   _Just fucking tap out already._  Noah wasn’t going to stop until he did. He could do this all night. Slam his fist down again and again till skin and bone gave way. His, New Guy’s, whichever broke first. Fights don’t stop until someone taps out, that was the rule. Noah followed the rules.

Another hit to the guy’s face, and some tiny part in Noah’s brain whispered about concussions and skull fractures and guilt and mercy and stuff. But that was the tiny part of his brain he didn’t listen to anymore, that was silent and dead for most of the day. He raised his fist to strike again, and finally finally, New Guy smacked his hand on the floor a few times, waving it in surrender for good measure.

Noah straightened almost immediately. God, it was about time. He rolled and stretched his shoulders some- they were always the first thing to ache- and then pulled New Guy up onto his feet. Once he could stand on his own, Noah shook his now-clumsy hand and turned away.

Taking his shirt back from Dallas, he retreated to the far corner of the room, used the shirt to mop up as much blood and sweat from his face and chest as he could, and tried to assess his own condition. Bruised, in pain, but not broken enough for anyone else to notice or do anything about it.

Good.

Same as always.

 _I am Noah’s inflamed sense of rejection._


	2. After fighting, everything else in his life got the volume turned down.

Reid wasn’t one for regrets. He didn’t look at life that way. He did what he wanted, when he wanted. If he ever came across any consequences in that, he could deal. He didn’t regret.

  
Which was why his current situation rankled him. He was feeling... uncertain. For the first time in years, he was questioning actions, words, feelings. He was questioning himself.

  
He hated that.

  
He wanted to blame Luke. Luke, who had reeled him in but not all the way. Luke, who was always there smiling and teasing and kissing him, but never more. Luke, who insisted they talk like a couple and act like a couple, but wasn’t actually letting them  _be_  a couple. And not just in sex, but in everything. Luke, who was holding back.

  
Luke, who still cared about Noah. Probably still loved him, though he’d never admit it. Reid hadn’t be able to hear all of that argument between the two former lovers (yeah, he wasn’t about to think about  _that_  either) last week, but he had seen Luke’s face. Even in that moment of frustration with Noah, Luke had shown more of an anything than he really ever showed Reid.

  
But he couldn’t really blame Luke, could he? He had known going into this relationship that Luke had been in love with someone else. Sure, he didn’t realize that love was as deep as it was, but he had assumed it would fade. Would become just another memory. But it hadn’t, and he had let himself get drawn into a relationship based on unresolved feelings and regrets.

  
He hated regrets.

  
He wanted to blame Noah, who still had some hold over Luke. Who was still held by Luke in return. Who seemed to leave a trace of himself in every place of Oakdale that he and Luke ever go. Who was admired and talked about by Hugheses and Snyders alike.

  
But he couldn’t blame Noah either. The guy had been in one impossible deal after another, and he had done what Reid probably would have done in the same situation (and didn’t  _that_ scare him a little?). Noah wasn’t a bad guy by any means, and in another time or place it was possible that Reid might’ve even liked him. And Reid had to admit he had taken advantage of an unstable situation to make a play for Luke. But he didn’t regret that, because now at least he  _had_  Luke. (Who did Noah have? Reid had no idea.)

  
He didn’t know who to blame. It wasn’t like Luke and Noah had even tried to be around each other, and it wasn’t like Noah was trying all that hard to win Luke back, obviously. Last week during that argument, his face had looked blanker than it had when he’d been blind. Enough to unnerve even Reid, watching from afar.

  
Maybe that’s all this was. Reid was just unnerved. And he was frustrated by the way he wasn’t connecting fully with Luke and frustrated by how slowly the new wing was being put together and frustrated by how patients could still die now matter how fucking good at his job he was...

  
He wouldn’t allow himself to regret any of his decisions since allowing himself to be brought do Oakdale. He couldn’t live with regrets.

  
But he was also having a hard time dealing with this pent up frustration, which was why he was here now. When his patient from today had finally come clean about how he had gotten his bruises, Reid found himself somewhere between intrigued and skeptical. A fight club? Really?

  
But here it was. And it might be exactly what he needed to relieve the tension of his life right now. Clear his head, so that tomorrow he could do his job to the perfection he always required. He had done some boxing while in medical school, and it had been the perfect release for him. Sure, there was a risk of damaging his hands, but sometimes that made the fight all the more interesting.

  
“Doc,” Raymond, the patient who had invited him, waved him over to where he stood with three other men. Reid made his way over, sidestepping the men who were cheering on a current fight. “Doc, this is Rob and Angel, they kinda run this joint. And Dallas, too. Guys, this is the new guy for the night. Dr...” Raymond looked at him again. “Shit, I don’t even know your first name.”

  
“Reid Oliver,” he supplied, shaking first Rob, then Angel’s, hand. When he held his hand out to the guy Dallas, he was surprised to see the man studying him intently, a strange look on his face. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  
Dallas’s eyes were almost wary, and Reid couldn’t figure out why. “Not yet,” Dallas answered, as though that made any sort of sense.

  
Before he could get any further, Rob clapped him on the shoulder. “Looks like this round’s about to end, let’s introduce you and get you in the ring, so to speak.”

  
Reid nodded, following Rob to the center of the room. Raymond had briefed him on the rules beforehand; he knew he was required to fight tonight. He glanced back at weird guy Dallas ( _gee, wonder where_ his _parents were when he was conceived?_ ), but the man was scanning around the room hurriedly, as though looking for someone in particular.

  
“Alright guys,” Rob called out, getting everyone’s attention. Reid noticed that the man didn’t have to raise his voice much for that to happen- these men respected him. Something good to know. This was actually a crowd that Reid  _didn’t_ want to piss off if at all possible.

  
Rob gestured over to him. “This is Reid. Raymond brought him in, tonight’s his first night.” A couple of the men around them nodded to him, Reid nodded back. “So Doc, since it’s your first night, you get your pick.” He swept his hand out across the room. “Who do you feel like fighting tonight?”

  
Reid smirked a little as the other guys chuckled. He looked over the group, sizing each person up. He was just about to point to a guy- one who looked to be about his weight class- when a voice, quiet and firm, spoke up from the back of the crowd. “I’m doing it.”

  
Reid turned with the group, most of whom wore different levels of shocked expressions on their faces. He couldn’t help but narrow his eyes when Noah stepped forward.  _Shit._  No way in hell had he expected this little development.  _Well, fuck you too, Fate_. Noah was already stripped to the waist, and he stood there with his arms crossed, face still so neutral and blank. But there was something else there, a slight air of... daring, maybe?

  
Reid took a moment to look him over, ignoring the quiet voice in the back of his head that questioned whether or not his former patient should even be here. And questioned whether or not his former patient was even the type of person who would be here. Neither of those were his concern.

  
Noah was still waiting patiently, one eyebrow raising just slightly. Reid noted the cut next to it, the bruise on his jaw, the multitude of bruises- some old, some new- that were scattered across his chest and abdomen. This definitely wasn’t Noah’s first night here. But Reid wasn’t too concerned- it was Noah Mayer, after all. Oakdale’s preeminent boy scout. He could handle this. And he couldn’t let Noah (or any of the other guys here) see if he was rattled or not.

  
He nodded finally, making sure he was as collected and together and possible. “Sure,” was all he said, gesturing towards Noah. Noah didn’t smile, didn’t frown, didn’t nod back. Just started stretching his arms and shoulders, getting ready. Reid decided to do the same, forcing himself to size up Noah with a calculating look. Damn, the guy was built. When had that happened? Or had he always looked like this under the seven hundred layers of shirts he always wore?

  
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Rob, Angel, and a few other men passing money around quickly. Obviously making a bet on the outcome. Except for Dallas, who stood near Noah, watching them both with what almost looked like worry. Ah, so Noah did have a wingman.

  
Finally the two of them stood facing each other, ready to go. Everything got silent. Reid saw Noah close his eyes for just a second, breathe deeply. Then Rob, from somewhere off to the side, called out a quiet, “Go.”

  
And the room exploded. Well, the crowd did. And the energy around them. But Noah remained calm and cool as ever, his arms and hands up in a natural fighting stance, his weight shifting to the balls of his feet.

  
Reid did the same, and the two of them circled each other. He waited for Noah to throw a punch, snarl at him, do  _anything_ , but nothing happened. Was he really that calm, or was he baiting Reid? Reid hated not knowing, hated not having the upper hand, and that caused him to open his mouth. Of course. “What are you waiting for, Mr. Mayer?” he asked, just barely heard over the crowd’s noise. “The chance to sucker punch me again?”

  
He waited for the flash of anger in Noah’s eyes or for him to let his guard down, lose his temper. But there was nothing. If Reid believed in that stupid phrase about ‘the pit of his stomach,’ he would be feeling it now. What the hell?

  
Noah’s voice was just as quiet and disinterested as his demeanor. “You should conserve your breath.”

  
That was all he said. Reid wanted to roll his eyes but didn’t want to take them off of his opponent. “Why’s that?”

  
The answer came quicker than he had expected. Turned out it didn’t matter where Reid’s eyes were, Noah found a way to hit him anyway. Square in the chest, right in his center of gravity. Before he could figure it out, Reid was on his back on the ground, trying to suck in air as his lungs suddenly became empty and useless.

  
By the time his senses came back to him, he realized Noah was crouched down, leaning over him. Reid braced himself, waiting for the punch he knew was coming. As Noah lifted one hand, he started calculating what would be the best excuse to use the next day to explain away the bruises that were about to start-

  
Nothing happened.

  
Reid was more than shocked (and confused) when Noah reached past Reid with his hand and tapped on the floor three times. Noah was tapping out. What the fuck? The men around them were just as confused, their yells fading out to murmurs. Noah didn’t seem fazed at all, staring at Reid with a steady look on his face. Reid just stared back.

  
After another moment Noah broke eye contact, stood, and walked over to Rob and Angel. Ignoring the confused (and in some cases, disgruntled- Reid guessed they had bet on him to win?) looks from the guys around him, Noah said a few quiet words to the two men in charge, then retreated back to the corner of the room.

  
Reid picked himself up off the floor, warring between curiosity and embarrassment. It wasn’t exactly how he wanted his first fight to go. He wasn’t sure what kind of impression it left on the rest of the people here. That in mind, he went over to Angel as Rob got the next fight started.

  
“Sorry about the debut, man,” Angel gave him a shrug. “Boy’s never acted like that before.”

  
Reid refused to think of Noah as a ‘kid’ or a ‘boy.’ Because he was the same age as Luke and that... He shook his head. “What did he say to you?”

  
Angel frowned a little, obviously confused. “He told us we should be careful letting you fight. Said you shouldn’t be risking your hands or whatever because of your job.”

  
Reid could only be described as dumbfounded right now. And that was almost as horrible as having regrets, he was finding. It felt disgusting. He glanced over at Noah, then back at Angel. He had no idea what to say.

  
For the rest of the night, he kept one eye on Noah. Unless he was fighting (which happened twice, and yeah- the guy could definitely fight a hell of a lot better than Reid had expected), Noah stood in the back of the crowd, watching the bouts with a stony, empty expression. He would respond when Dallas spoke to him, but that was about it. No remorse, no anger, no excitement.

  
Reid hated to admit it, but he was a little freaked out by that. This wasn’t the Noah who used to be his patient. Reid didn’t know who this person was or if there was really much of a person there at all. He didn’t know whether or not he should care. He couldn’t, he couldn’t care.

  
He didn’t live with regrets.

  
************

  
So he didn’t let it bother him. Not for the rest of the night, not for the next morning, not for nearly his entire shift at the hospital that day. Noah wasn’t his friend, wasn’t even his patient anymore. No reason for him to care. Maybe the only reason it bugged him was because he knew someone else would care-

  
“Hey!” Luke popped into his line of sight with the timing of a cartoon character, startling Reid out of his thoughts. “I was bored at home, so I came a little early for lunch. Are you free now?”

  
“What? Oh, yeah, hold on,” Reid shook his head, moving to the Nurses Station to drop off the files in his hands. “Lunch. Sure.”

  
Luke narrowed his eyes. “Is something wrong? You’re acting kinda... Whoa, wait. What happened to your jaw?” He came closer, hesitating for half a second before touching the bruise there.

  
That hesitation bore into Reid’s brain. That hesitation was what kept Reid from telling him the truth. “Oh, a patient yesterday. Guess he didn’t like my diagnosis. No big deal.”

  
Luke pulled back again with a smirk. “Didn’t like your diagnosis or didn’t like your delivery of the diagnosis?” he asked expectantly.

  
Even though it had been his goal, Reid was irrationally annoyed that Luke bought the excuse so easily. Shit, now he was being irrational? What was wrong with him? For just a second he wanted to tell Luke exactly how he had gotten the bruise on his face, the several bruises on his chest and ribs.

  
And he really wanted to tell Luke about one particular bruise on the center of his chest. Wanted to show it to Luke, ask him if he recognized the hand that made it. For a second he really wanted to test this thing between them and test himself. Because God only knew how he’d react if Luke  _did_ recognize some trace of Noah on him.

  
But he couldn’t do any of that. For one thing, it was against the rules. And the club wasn’t exactly legal. And he was betting it wouldn’t do much for his reputation with hospital donors if they knew he did this in his free time.

  
And for him and Luke, they had one major rule: You do not talk about Noah. Reid was just as avid about this rule as Luke was. He wasn’t about to tell Luke about this neo-Noah that he’d encountered last night. Luke would go straight into his Lassie- _Noah’s-fallen-down-the-well_ -rescue mode. And then he’d kiss Reid goodbye, figuratively and maybe literally. So no.

  
Instead he just smirked back, threw out a comment about idiots with half a brain to begin with, and led Luke down to the hospital break room. Lunch. Together. That was one thing they could do.

  
************

  
The 2 and 3pm hours at Java were always the worst. The seconds and minutes dragged on, to the point where Noah could swear he heard ticking even though there were no clocks around. It felt like time slowed down to nothing, like Noah was trapped in a vortex of silence, empty chairs, and coffee cups. Noah was so fucking sick of coffee.

  
He had a textbook out, half-reading and half-cleaning the counter, when the door opened slowly. Even the door seemed to be stuck in the stupid vortex. Noah sighed, shutting his book, plastering on a somewhat welcoming and professional face, and turned to greet the customer.

  
Who was Luke. “Hey,” Luke raised his hand as though to wave, thought the better of it, and stuffed them in his pockets instead.

  
“Hey,” Noah answered, almost just almost feeling wary. Maybe he did feel wary, he just couldn’t remember what that felt like. “What... Can I get you anything?”

  
Luke offered a small smile. “Iced coffee?”

  
“Sure,” Noah turned, more grateful than he’d let himself admit that he could get Luke out of his view. Which, how funny was that- after months of agonizing and dying over never seeing Luke’s face again, now it seemed just as wrong to have it around.

  
Maybe ‘funny’ wasn’t the right word.

  
Instead of going to a table, Luke moved around the counter to sit on one of the high stools nearby. Noah fought off a grimace.  _Too close_. Luke was too close. Noah didn’t like how his hand trembled for a fraction of a second as he added the ice to Luke’s drink.  _No._  He smacked himself mentally to get it together, trying to draw on the focus he used while fighting. This didn’t hurt. He didn’t let it hurt.

  
“School’s going okay?” Luke spoke up.

  
“Yeah,” Noah didn’t turn around, didn’t look at him. He concentrated on mixing the drink. His hand automatically started to reach for the caramel syrup- Luke’s favorite- but then stopped. Luke didn’t ask for it in his order. It wasn’t Noah’s job or Noah’s place to know Luke’s preferences anymore. He had no reason to give Luke extra treats anymore. He left the caramel syrup where it was.

  
“Good. That’s, that’s good.” Luke sounded tentative. Nervous. But hey, at least he wasn’t pretending to be in charge of Noah anymore, or demanding to know details of his life that he would already know if he wasn’t avoiding Noah, or taking pity on him by explaining the problems of his and Reid’s sex life.

  
Noah just nodded a little, a short jerk of his head, and set the coffee mug down in front of Luke. Then he turned back again, refusing to face him, cleaning up the coffee maker and workspace instead. He was probably being rude (he knew he was), but he couldn’t get himself to... try.

  
“When do you think you’ll graduate?” Luke asked behind him.

  
Noah’s hand stilled from where it had been wiping down the counter. “End of the summer,” he finally answered. Why was Luke doing this? What was the point?

  
“Really?” Luke sounded genuinely interested. Noah’s hand shook again, so he had to tighten it into a fist around the dishrag. “Wow, that’s great!”

  
“Yeah,” now Noah was the one who sounded tentative. Damn it. This wasn’t supposed to happen, Noah wasn’t supposed to feel anything around Luke anymore. They were supposed to be done. No future, no hopes, no chance. Why was Luke here now? Maybe... maybe what Noah had said in the hospital got to Luke? Maybe he did want to be a part of Noah’s life? Maybe-

  
“Noah. Um, can I ask you something?” Luke’s voice was softer now, almost gentle. Like it used to sound when he was gearing up for some big important question.

  
Noah couldn’t stop himself from turning to face Luke now, leaning back against the workspace counter. He couldn’t stop himself from feeling that tiny, stupid bit of hope in his chest. What could Luke possibly want from him? “Yeah?”

  
“Today, I had lunch with... Reid had a bruise on his face. He made up some story about where he got it, but I don’t believe him. Did...” Luke took a deep breath. “Did you hit him?”

  
For a second Noah was pretty sure he must have heard wrong. He stared at Luke, waiting for his brain to rearrange those sounds so they made sense to him, waiting for Luke to laugh and reveal the joke, waiting for a piano to drop on his head. Something. But no, Luke was regarded him seriously, with that look of begging Noah to tell him the truth.

 _  
Fuck this_. That stupid bit of hope got locked back away in the vault, door slamming shut. “Excuse me?”

  
“Did you hit him?” Luke asked again, almost sad.

  
Noah didn’t care that Luke was sad. “Are you kidding me? You come in here just to, to accuse me of hitting your boyfriend? Why would it automatically be  _me_  that hit him? Of course it was the jealous ex-boyfriend with anger issues, right? Of course that’s the only reason you’d ever come talk to me.” He made sure to keep his voice even. He wouldn’t give anyone, not even Luke, the satisfaction of knowing he was upset.

  
Luke’s eyes widened and then narrowed in the span of a few seconds. “Why else would I be here? It’s not like we can be around each other without arguing. It’s not like you’ve shown me at all that you actually  _want_ me around. That whole avoidance thing is a two-way street, you know. You’ve been staying away from me too, just like you have been for the last nine months.”

  
“I’m really tired of you always playing the victim, Luke,” Noah never moved from his position.

  
“And I’m really tired of you always playing the martyr!” For as calm as Noah remained, Luke got more and more agitated. “So maybe neither of us has ever really changed!”

  
Noah was pretty sure he winced, though he tried so hard not to. “You have. You used to love me.”

  
Luke was silent for a second then, his face softening. “Noah, it’s not that-”

  
“Don’t,” Noah turned his head to the side, the only movement he let himself make. He didn’t want to hear Luke’s pity or empty words. Or worse, the I’ll-always-love-you-but-I’m-not- _in_ -love-with-you speech. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  
Which of course just caused Luke to combust once again. “Of course you don’t. God, you can’t just expect me to know how you feel and then act accordingly, okay? You know what? I may not always like what Reid thinks or has to say, but at least he lets me know what’s going on his head!”

 _  
Except today, apparently. Because you didn’t believe his story_ , Noah might have pointed that out if he actually cared. But instead he took a second to squash down the bitter taste in his mouth at being compared to Luke’s new boyfriend. Instead he fell back on a favorite defense mechanism, sarcasm. “Well then, I’m so glad you’re with someone now who’s such a perfect match for you.”

  
“Maybe he is!” Luke near-shouted.

  
That stopped both of them. Noah felt some part of him, the part of him that had been  _‘him’_  in the past three years, yell and cry and curl up into a ball. The part he had managed to lock away in that vault, get rid of. Well, even if he hadn’t, he had a good chance to do that now. He obviously didn’t need it, did he?

  
Luke continued, killing him even more. “Maybe... maybe this was a sign,” he said calmer. And fuck if that didn’t make it more unbearable. “Maybe you and I just aren’t right for each other. But I’m with Reid now. And he and I might be, and I need to see that through.”

  
For a long moment, Noah did nothing. He stood still, not looking at Luke, not looking at anything. Finally he nodded a little and faced forward again. Luke met his gaze, eyes sad and asking for... something. Noah didn’t know what. Reassurance? A fight? Noah’s blessing? He wouldn’t be getting any of them. “Get out.”

  
Luke took a step back without thinking. “What?” he half-whispered, eyes wide.

  
“Get out,” Noah nodded towards the door, then turned his back to Luke again. He hadn’t finished cleaning the coffee machine earlier. He should do it now. He  _needed_ to do it now. He kept imagining the vault inside him, and he used all the self-control he had to lock it up tighter and tighter. By the time the footsteps behind him walked away, the door opening and shutting just as slowly as it had before, he was back under control.

  
He didn’t feel anything.

  
************

  
One more day. One more fucking day. It was all Noah could think about right now. He had to wait one more day for a fight. There was a very real part of him that thought he might not be able to wait that long.

  
He sat at the bar at Yo’s, drinking steadily from the pint in front of him. He kept his fingers wrapped around the glass, hoping it would stop them from twitching. He needed a fight. It was the only thing he really looked forward to anymore. And even that was lessened now, because Reid was there.

  
It wasn’t like he’d had to fight Reid again after that first night, but he was still there. That was bad enough. They never talked, never stood near each other, never looked at each other, but Noah still knew he was there. It was like a black storm cloud- a constant reminder of what he had that Noah didn’t, what he got to go home to.

  
And Noah had stupidly told Rob and Angel to be careful for Reid. Because any damage to his head or hands hurt more people than just him- he had patients and hospital donors and Katie (and Luke) to worry about. And because of Noah’s stupid decision, Reid didn’t fight as much as the other guys, but often acted as a medic or patched up any major injuries from the fights. He got to be the well-respected saint again, but hey- at least this time Noah could  _see_ it happening, right?

  
He took another big gulp from his glass. But what did it really matter to him, right? He was just there to throw some punches and get that rush. That was all he needed anymore. He could survive just fine on that. After fighting, everything else in his life got the volume turned down. Everything was bearable.

  
There was movement beside him, someone sitting down on the barstool next to his. He heard the bartender ask for an order, and a voice- male, a little bit older than him- ordered a shot of something or other. Noah wasn’t really paying attention, until the voice said, “You know what? Make it two.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sensed the guy turn towards him.

  
Noah put down his almost-empty beer. He turned to face the guy as well, looking him over. The guy was older, maybe close to thirty, but good looking. Definitely good-looking. About as tall as Noah, with closely-cropped dark hair and almost as dark-brown eyes. Eyes that were looking him up and down very intently.

  
He didn’t smile, but he let one side up his mouth turn up just slightly. “The second one’s for me?” he asked. His voice sounded deep and rough even to his own ears. Possibly because it had been about a day since he’d actually spoken. (Unless he was at Java with customers, there really wasn’t all that much need to talk.)

  
The guy smiled, and it was a perfectly boring, nondescript smile that Noah appreciated at the moment. “Yeah, if you want it.” The bartender pushed the shot glasses in front of the guy, and he paid for them quickly. “I wasn’t sure if you would, I’ve seen you in here before and you’ve only ever had beer in front of you.”

  
Noah raised his eyebrows a little at that. So the guy had been watching him, huh? Then he nodded, finishing off the last of his beer. “Usually,” he answered then. He turned fully on the stool to face the guy, crossing his arms over his chest.

  
He also didn’t miss the way the guy watch the motion with another smile. “So I’d ask if you come here often, but we both already know the answer,” the man joked, sliding one of the shot glasses over to him.

  
Noah kept the smirk on his face, and didn’t roll his eyes. Victory. “Is this all you’re looking for tonight? To feed me bad pickup lines and buy me a cheap drink?”

  
The guy looked a little thrown for a second. “No,” he finally answered, getting with the program. “It’s not.”

  
Noah nodded. “Then what are you looking for?”

  
“You,” he answered quicker this time. Firm. “Tonight. Just you. Nothing more.”

  
Noah answered by downing the shot, shoving the empty glass back towards the man. “Okay. Then let’s go.”

  
The guy threw back his own shot quickly, then stood, nodding towards the door. Noah followed him out of the bar. “By the way,” the man said as they headed for his car, “I’m-”

  
“I don’t want to know your name,” Noah cut in. “It doesn’t matter, does it?” He knew it didn’t. He didn’t care about names. It was better that way, actually. He had convinced himself of this awhile ago, and he convinced himself of this yet again tonight as they shoved each other through the door of the guy’s apartment, bodies already fused together.

  
He knew this wasn’t real, Noah wasn’t an idiot. He knew it was just a quick fix until tomorrow night, that sex provided almost as much of an escape as fighting did. It was all about losing himself in something, in a moment, in real contact with another person. It wasn’t enough, but it was just enough to get by. That’s all Noah was looking for.

  
Which was why he let himself slam the other guy back against the wall in the living room, not even bothering to look for a bedroom, and kissed him with fury and teeth and fire. Which was why he let the other guy shove him down onto a couch, pulling his shirt off desperately as though it were a noose around him. And he bit and sucked along neck and shoulder, bucking his hips up to help the guy get his belt and jeans off faster.

  
But no, he wasn’t an idiot. In the morning he’d wake up just as empty as he had been when he woke up this morning. But at least there were a few seconds in here, if the guy touched his face or kissed his chest over his heart, that he could pretend he was with someone else, somewhere else.

  
He loved and hated those few seconds more than he loved and hated that he would wake up and remember that the face was a stranger’s.

  
************

  
There were so many things wrong with so many things, Luke didn’t know where to begin. There was something strained between him and Reid, he could feel it. Both of them just seemed to be going through the motions, but the depth that had once been there between them (there had been depth at one point, right?) was gone. When they touched, when they kissed, it felt like they were only doing it because it was what boyfriends were supposed to do.

  
And Luke couldn’t talk to anyone about it. Not his friends who, while they supported him and were tolerable of Reid, still got those weird, distant looks on their faces. Like they were remembering different (better) times. With another person. They never said a name, and neither did Luke. His family was the same way. He knew his parents and grandmothers would love him and support him no matter what, but he could see hesitation on their faces sometimes, wanting to ask about someone else but unable to.

  
He couldn’t talk to Reid about it either. For one, it would acknowledge that there was a problem between them. There weren’t supposed to be any problems. Their relationship was good, solid, adult. Luke was supposed to be those things now too. And how exactly would he bring this up with Reid, anyway? He’d look like an idiot. Like a teenager. A brat. He might as well pass him a note in the hallway that said ‘Do you  _really_ like me? Check yes or no.’

 _  
And which box would you check?_  a really annoying voice asked him. Luke told the voice to shut up. The voice ignored him.  _Which box would you check if the note was from Noah?_  Shut up.

  
He didn’t- couldn’t- think about Noah right now. Maybe ever again. It had been a few days since their fight at Java, since Noah had kicked him out. And the disgusting, heavy feeling in his stomach, like he needed to throw up but couldn’t, just wouldn’t leave. It was like the world’s worst hangover. And it was his fault.

  
Noah had turned his back on Luke. Literally. And Luke couldn’t blame him. It was like he had been trapped in his body, watching in some weird paralysis, as he told Noah that they weren’t right for each other. That they were well and truly over. That... there was no hope for them. Of all the things Noah had done in the past that hurt Luke, he’d never said something like that. But Luke had.

  
And Noah had let him. He hadn’t argued or fought back or even gotten upset. And that was as painful as anything. Even Luke couldn’t bring Noah out of whatever cold shell he’d thrown himself into. Luke wasn’t some magical cure. He finally got it- he couldn’t fix Noah. He never had been able to, he had been kidding himself for the last three years. Just being in love wasn’t enough.  _He_  wasn’t enough.

  
But he was enough for Reid. And Reid was enough for him. It wasn’t perfect, wasn’t amazing, wasn’t lighting anything on fire, but it worked. It made him smile, made him feel happy and wanted. If he couldn’t be head-over-heels, shooting-stars in love, he could at least have this, right? He deserved to have something.

 _  
What does Noah deserve?_ Shut up.

  
Luke bit back a sigh, remembering at the last second that he had to be quiet. His focus right now shouldn’t be on Noah, it should be on Reid. That’s why he was here right now. He still wasn’t buying Reid’s story about getting hit by a patient. And his new ‘OR’ meetings on Tuesday and Friday nights were slightly suspicious too. So Luke did what he did best- he got nosy and investigated.

  
Which was why he was here now, trying to clamp down on his anger and distrust with each passing second. Reid had walked from the hospital out to Old Town, to a door at the end of the alley behind Yo’s with a couple other men. Who were definitely  _not_ a Memorial surgeons. What the hell was Reid up to? And more importantly, why was he lying to Luke about it?

  
He waited another fifteen minutes, until he was sure no one else was coming or going, then crept into the building. It was a dark hallway, save for one room near the end. Luke made his way slowly, unsettled and nervous. What was Reid doing here?

  
He hid in the shadows of a doorway across from the room, peeking in. It was a grungy, dimly lit room. A few dozen men (wait, was that  _Dallas_ _?_ ) were crowded around the center, hollering and cheering on something in the center of the crowd. Finally, Luke could hear other sounds besides the yelling, and his eyes widened. No way. But then the group shifted a little, and Luke could see two men fighting, really whaling on each other.

  
His eyes snapped open wide. Holy shit.  _This_  is what Reid was doing twice a week? This is why he had those bruises? No way. But there he was. Luke gripped the edge of the doorway he was hiding in. Reid stood there, half an eye on the fight and half an eye on the guy whose hand he was bandaging up.

  
Luke studied Reid. He looked more... Reid-like, than he had in months. Focused, charged, alive. He didn’t even look that way with Luke anymore. He was also a little bloody and rough around the edges, his shirt unbuttoned and open across his chest. Luke had to admit, it was kind of hot.

  
The yelling got louder for a moment, and Luke’s attention was drawn back to the fight. With the crowd and the frantic movements, he couldn’t really see too much of the fighters, but he could tell it was pretty brutal. Both men were taking hard hits, and that hollow sound of a fist making contact with a body filled the room between shouts. Luke couldn’t help but flinch with each hit. These two guys were doing damage to each other, and definitely not going easy or giving up.

  
Finally, as the crowd reached some crazed, fevered volume, one of the bodies hit the floor. The crowd moved a bit again, and Luke could see the two fighters. The guy on the ground was curled onto his side, tapping his hand sloppily onto the floor. His opponent stood over him, reaching a hand down to help him up. Luke almost laughed silently at the incongruous gesture, but then he saw who the hand belonged to.

  
Oh. Fuck.

  
His grip on the doorframe tightened enough to chip off splinters of wood. His legs shook. His whole world tilted like he was on a ship in the middle of a storm. Never in a million years would he have thought that Noah would be here. Would be fighting. Would be standing over some guy he just beat into the ground, shirtless and ripped as all fuck, bruises and blood scattered across his upper body.  _Jesus_.

  
Noah shook hands with the guy as the man stood shakily, then turned and headed to the far corner of the room, tilting his head to acknowledge a couple other guys that spoke to him or clapped him on the back.

  
Luke kept his gaze zeroed in on him, watching as Dallas moved to stand next to Noah, handing him his shirt, speaking quietly. Noah nodded a few times but didn’t speak. He also didn’t put his shirt back on, and part of Luke didn’t mind. But another part of him was shaking, terrified, wanting to grab Noah and get him out of here. He shouldn’t be here. This place was dark and ugly, and not Noah.

  
He wasn’t sure how time passed after that, but pretty soon the group was dispersing. Luke shrank back further into his hiding spot, watching as the men filed out of the room, some of them talking and laughing, none of them looking like they’d just spent an hour or two beating up someone or getting beaten up. They looked almost carefree. Relieved.

  
Luke frowned at that, but kept quiet. Even when Reid walked by, advising someone on how to take care of their sprained wrist. Luke stayed where he was, somehow knowing exactly who the last person out of the room would be.

  
Sure enough, Noah shuffled into the hallway, pulling his t-shirt back on, covering up the evidence of who he was now. And Luke couldn’t take it. “Noah...” he said softly, moving out of the doorway, nearly choking on the name. Noah didn’t jump, didn’t gasp, didn’t even look startled. He turned to face Luke, his expression unapologetic and unmoved. He didn’t say anything. Luke tried again, “Noah, I...” he had no idea what to say.

  
“Noah! Come on kid, hurry up!” a voice called from the door out to the alley. Luckily Luke was still in the shadows, and no one saw him.

  
He glanced in the direction of the voice, seeing Dallas and another man- the one who had called an end to the night, Luke recalled- waiting there. He looked back at Noah. “I, I just...” Damn it, he needed to say something, didn’t he?

  
Noah’s eyes narrowed, the barest form of a glare. He looked away, turning and spitting out a little blood onto the ground. “You’re lucky you didn’t get caught spying,” was all he said, his voice rough and gritty.

  
That, combined with the image Luke now had of Noah fighting, almost caused his body to react before his mind could. Almost. “You, um,” Luke couldn’t remember the last time he had been so at a loss for words.

  
Or when Noah had been so in control of them. “Go take care of your boyfriend, Luke,” Noah spoke shortly, not quite impassioned enough to be considered snapping. There was another call of his name from the door, and Noah was walking away.

  
And Luke let him go.

 _  
I am Noah’s complete lack of surprise._


	3. Noah's not here. Noah went away. Noah's gone.

He hit harder, quicker, enjoying the pull of muscles in his arms. A long week made worse by a long day had him begging for this release tonight. He hit again. This was the only time he got to let go of all his worries. Well, not all his worries. There was still-

  
Dumb move. His distraction allowed the new guy to get past his guard and get in a good hit to his jaw. He reeled back- this guy was way strong, knew what he was doing- remembering a second too late to keep up a defensive stance. Another hit across his temple, and he dropped to one knee, trying to find balance. Shit. Well, maybe he still had a chance at-

  
Nope. A kick to his stomach laid him flat to the ground. The men around them yelled for him to get up, but that seemed to be out of his control. He used one arm to protect his head, trying to use the other to push himself back up, but it was no use. The guy just pulled his arms away and hit him again. And again. After awhile he lost count of the hits. He could taste blood.

  
With his last bit of strength, he pushed an arm out to the side, tapping the floor, tapping out. But the hits kept coming. He was confused, did the guy not see him? He tried again, but no change. Another hard punch (kick?) to his ribs, and he could feel them crack. There was pain in his shoulder, his back, his head. He didn’t have enough in him now to try tapping out again. The guy kept hitting. Fuck, this wasn’t going to end well.

  
The yells around him were going from cheering to shock and anger now. He couldn’t turn his head to look, but he could feel people moving in closer, trying to pull the guy away. He hoped they succeeded. His last thought just before everything went dark, just as a pair of worried, familiar eyes came into view, was  _I think I’m done._

  
************

  
Reid still hadn’t come clean. Then again, neither had Luke. It had been weeks since Luke had discovered the truth about what Reid- and Noah- were doing with their Tuesdays and Fridays. Reid was keeping secrets from him.

 _  
We said we’d always be honest with each other,_  he complained to his brain.

  
Wait. No, they hadn’t. He and Noah had made that promise. What promises had he and Reid made? What basis did they build a relationship from? What did they-

  
Luke wished his hair was a little longer, so he could grab it and rip it out. He wished he didn’t live in the same house as his mother and siblings, so he could scream and curse as loud as he wanted. Fuck. (And why hadn’t he gotten his own place yet? Was it really that hard for him to be alone?)

  
He couldn’t believe he was exercising so much self-control right now with Reid. Every day he dug his stubborn ditch deeper. If he confronted Reid now, things were likely to implode. Fall apart. And he wanted to prevent that. Didn’t he?

  
He had gotten home  _that_ night a shaking, half-crying mess. He was just about to dial Reid’s number, ask him what the fuck, tell him he knew, call him out on all this shit... but then he didn’t. Couldn’t. He stared at the phone instead.

  
He was angry that Reid had kept this from him and lied to him, and he was upset that Noah was putting himself in harm’s way on purpose. Wasn’t there something wrong with that? Shouldn’t he be... shouldn’t it be the opposite or something?

  
This was what Luke’s life boiled down to now. Confused. Aimless. Spending more time worried about drama then working (at a job he didn’t want or like. At all.  _Admit it._ ) Distrusting of his boyfriend, worried for the guy he was still- worried for his ex.

  
...His ex who was, by his own admission, sleeping with someone else. Noah.  _Noah._  Having sex with some other guy. Noah had once considered sex with Luke as something so serious and romantic, but now he was just... just giving himself away casually. Like the feelings he’d had the last three years meant nothing and could so easily be thrown away. Like he was forcing himself to move on.  _Do you think he feels that way about you and Reid?_ Shut up. This wasn’t about Noah. This was about himself.

  
What had become of his life? If he continued down this path he was on now, where would he be in five years?  _Who_ would he be? With all the opportunities and such at his fingertips, it was kind of shameful, wasn’t it, how little he had done with himself?

  
He wished he had someone to blame. When he had been with Noah, he had made too much of his life about him, about the “now,” not thinking things through. With Reid... with Reid he was going in circles. Slower and slower. Like circling a drain. So which was better? Which was worse? ...Why was he the common denominator in all of it?

  
Luke shook his head. He needed to clear it, sort out his thoughts. It was still pretty early in the morning, maybe what he needed was a trip to the farm...

  
A few minutes later, he stepped quietly into the Snyder kitchen and stopped short. “Hey,” he called out, surprised to see Jack sitting at the table.

  
Jack looked up, the same amount of surprise on his own face. “Hey Luke. What are you doing here?”

  
He shrugged with a smile. “Woke up early for no reason, thought maybe I could steal some of Grandma’s breakfast.”

  
Jack laughed. “Good strategy. Check the fridge, there should be something left in there.”

  
A few minutes later Luke sat down across from his cousin, plate full of homemade Emma-goodness. “So what are you doing here?” he asked between mouthfuls of food. “Thought you were working the early shifts at the station this month.”

  
“Oh,” Jack grimaced. “We had to move some schedules around. Dallas Griffin’s in the hospital.”

  
Luke almost dropped his fork. “What? What happened?”

  
Jack sighed. “He got attacked the other night. Looks like Dallas put up a good fight, but whoever got the jump on him messed him up bad. He’s only regained consciousness once or twice.” He stole a quick glance at Luke. “Noah’s actually the one who brought him in. You didn’t hear about that?”

  
Luke could only stare.  _Dallas_ _put up a good fight..._  “Was, um, was Noah hurt?”

  
He felt the tiniest bit of relief when Jack shook his head. “No, from what I understand Noah wasn’t there when it happened. He couldn’t give much of a statement.” He shrugged and kept talking, but Luke didn’t really hear any more of what was said.

  
It wasn’t planned, and it probably wasn’t wise, but a few hours later Luke found himself at the hospital, in the ICU, staring into Dallas’s room. The man was lying so still in his bed, hooked up to monitors, an oxygen tube running under his nose. He was covered in bruises and sutures and bandages and it almost physically hurt to look at him.

  
And it hurt even more to look at the chair beside his bed. There was Noah, sitting hunched over, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped tightly in front of him. If Luke didn’t know him better, he’d think Noah was praying. (But Noah didn’t believe in God, he’d told Luke that once. They’d been in their apartment, in bed, wrapped up in blankets and wrapped up in each other. Noah had mentioned he stopped believing in God the same time he stopped believing in Santa Claus and Peter Pan. His father wouldn’t let him live in a world of make-believe.)

  
He was entering the room before he could question whether or not it was a good idea. Noah didn’t react to the door opening and didn’t even flinch when Luke sat in the chair opposite him, on the other side of Dallas. He only kept looking at his friend.

  
“What happened?” Luke asked, finally breaking the silence.

  
At first Noah didn’t answer, and Luke wondered if maybe he hadn’t yet realized Luke was there. But then he spoke, voice scarily lifeless. “It was a new guy. His first fight. He didn’t- didn’t go by the rules. Crossed a line, and Dallas...” He couldn’t finish.

  
Luke started to shake a little, now that it was confirmed that this all came from a night of fighting. Noah had been there. And Reid too. Either one of them could’ve been... “Is there anything anyone can do? To get the guy in trouble? Dallas is a cop, for God’s sake.”

  
Noah somehow managed to shake his head without moving a muscle. “Being a cop doesn’t matter there. And we took care of it already anyway.”

  
Luke stared hard at him, realizing what that might mean. There’s no way Noah Mayer would do that. Resort to violence, revenge? Dole out his own justice without doing things the right and proper way? That wasn’t Noah.

  
Was it?

  
For the next few minutes, all he could do was stare at Noah’s hands. Those long fingers clasped together so tightly they were pale-white. Scraped knuckles, bruises, a makeshift splint on one ring finger. Just like the rest of Noah, they were something once so beautiful, sweet, tender, but now were marred and harsh. Nearly unrecognizable. It scared him.

  
He kept staring at the hands until he couldn’t stand it anymore. “I want you to quit fighting,” he said quietly.

  
There was another beat of silence. Then, “It’s not up to you.” He said it so matter-of-fact, not gentle or easing Luke into it at all.

  
“I know it’s not,” he replied quickly. “But it’s so- it terrifies me that this could’ve been you. It could be you lying in a hospital bed. Again.”

  
Finally, Noah moved. But it was only to shrug his shoulders. “How would it be so different from last time? You can even flirt with my doctor again while I’m unconscious. And he’s your boyfriend now, and you’re so right for each other, so you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

  
It felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Probably an appropriate metaphor. “God, Noah, I...” He shook his head. “What’s going on? This isn’t you. It isn’t. So angry and, and distant? It’s not you. Not Noah.”

  
Noah shrugged again, his eyes still on Dallas’s bed. From where he sat, Luke could see Noah’s eyes were open and staring. Blank. “Guess I’m not him anymore then. You’re supposed to be over it, Luke.”

  
“Please, just...” he tried to get the words out right. “You can hate me if you want to, just quit fighting. It’s going to get you killed.”

  
“I can handle it,” Noah’s voice got tight, controlled. Like his hands.

  
“Why can’t you see how dangerous it is?” Luke kept at it. “If I all of a sudden wanted to join-”

  
“No way,” Noah cut him off, finally looking at him. His eyes were supernova bright, and Luke felt them burning just as harshly. But Luke relished it. Burning was better than numb. It meant maybe Noah was still in there somewhere. “No fucking way would I ever let you put yourself in that kind of-” Noah stopped abruptly, realizing the trap he’d just walked into. He grimaced, looking away again.

  
Luke watched him sadly. “So why is it okay for you to still care about me but I can’t care what happens to you?”

  
He wasn’t expecting Noah to laugh here, but then- what about Noah had been easy to predict lately? “You know, I’ve been asking myself the same question for months now. Wondering, ‘Man, how is it  _so_   _easy_  for Luke to fall out of love with me?’ I really wish I knew the secret to it. It’d be a big help.”

  
“Noah,” Luke felt the name being torn out of him, it hurt that badly. “That’s not what-”

  
“You think I hate you?” Noah turned the glare off abruptly. Which hurt just as much. “I wish it were that goddamn simple.”

  
“You think it’s been easy for me?” Luke nearly gasped.

  
Noah rolled both lips between his teeth for a second before he could answer. “I haven’t been the one going around flaunting how over you I am.”

  
“I don’t  _flaunt_  it,” Luke tried to explain. “Jesus, I’ve being trying to go out of my way to  _not_ show you that...” Shit. He’d walked into his own trap now, hadn’t he?

  
Noah seemed to agree. “That what? That you’ve moved on? That you’re happier now?” His hands were shaking, but he couldn’t clasp them any tighter to hold it at bay. “Well, great for you, Luke. But I can’t do that. I  _hate_  this. I hate this town and I hate how everyone’s known you since birth and knows everything about what you do and who you’re with. I hate that every single place I go reminds me of you. I hate everything in the world  _except_  you. And that pisses me off.”

  
“Noah...” Luke had nothing else in him to say. The thing that freaked him out (okay, one of the things) was that Noah was staying all of this in that same staid, calm, almost conversational tone. Like none of it really mattered. Where was that fire he had just seen? Had he imagined it?

  
Noah was sitting back in his chair now, as though that extra bit of space would help. “I’m pissed off at everything. You still get to have... whatever, everything, and I don’t. So if this, doing this,” he waved one scarred hand in the air. “If it helps? Then I’m gonna do it. And you have to back off.”

  
There were tears in Luke’s eyes now, on his face, and he didn’t bother wiping them away. At this point, it was like he couldn’t even remember what the real Noah was supposed to look like or sound like. “There has to be a better way,” he whispered, desperate.

  
Noah’s answer was to get up and head to the door. “A lot of things could be better,” he muttered. “But it’s... my life isn’t up to you, Luke. If you’ve moved on like you say, then you have to get that in your head. You can’t just pop in and pop out whenever you feel like it.”

  
Luke opened his mouth to say something, anything, his eyes caught between Dallas lying so still in the hospital bed ( _that could be Noah_ ) to the figure standing tense and empty at the door ( _that can’t be Noah_ ). He wanted to make it all better, but he honestly couldn’t say who he wanted to make it better for- Noah, or himself.

  
He watched as Noah started to leave and suddenly paused in the doorway. He looked down at his feet, unable to get his eyes to go all the way back to Luke. “I wish I could be like you,” his voice rumbled, almost cracking. “I wish I could just leave everything that’s ‘you and me’ behind. But... I hate myself for still loving you.”

  
The door slammed shut behind him. Luke didn’t know how to fix this.  _He still loves me?_

  
************

  
And now he was definitely avoiding Noah. He just didn’t know what else to do. Everything was too painful. For him, and obviously for Noah too. And last thing Luke wanted to do now was cause Noah any more pain.

  
Not to say he was completely ignoring him, though. In fact, over the last few days he found himself observing Noah a lot. He glanced in the door of Java a couple times. He found himself driving past his and Alison’s apartment, OU campus. And of course, he watched him at the hospital.

  
Noah spent a lot of time at the hospital now. Usually with Dallas as the man continued to recuperate. It would’ve been a strange friendship if Luke didn’t know where it came from. Noah was there for most of Dallas’s recovery- a quiet, steady presence.  _Like he was for you._  Shut up.

  
He stood in the hallway, peeking into Dallas’s hospital room, watching as the physical therapist and Noah assisted Dallas in getting to his feet. Dallas said something that caused Noah to shake his head and respond. Whatever he said had Dallas laughing and weakly punching him on the arm. Luke ached to know what Noah had said, and ached as he realized that Noah never smiled back.

  
He was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one who was worried, thank God. Just last night he’d overheard Alison arguing with Noah. It was Tuesday, and Noah must’ve come to visit Dallas straight from the fight club. Alison still didn’t know what was going on, and her pleading, scolding words had fallen on Noah’s deaf ears.

 _  
“Is that your blood?” she demanded._

 _  
“Some of it, yeah” he said, so nonchalant._

  
Noah was still fighting. He was still uncaring, unemotional, unmoved. He was still...  _He’s still in love with you._  Shut up.

 _  
Are you still in love with him?_  “I can’t be,” he muttered to himself. “He’s not Noah anymore.” _And don’t you want to help him fix that?_ Shut up.  _Don’t you want him to help fix you?_  “Shut up!”

  
“Don’t you usually wait until after I’ve said something for that?”

  
Luke whirled around, a probably guilty expression on his face, until he saw it was Reid. He tamped down on the guilt then. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. He wasn’t the liar here. “Hey.”

  
Reid raised an eyebrow, glancing over Luke’s shoulder into the hospital room. “Ah. Something tells me you weren’t checking in on Officer Griffin.”

  
“You should’ve told me,” Luke snapped.

  
Reid raised the other eyebrow. “About the guy getting mugged? I wasn’t aware that you two were friends. Are you sure this little mood of yours has nothing to do with-”

  
“Wow, yes of course, you figured it out,” Luke deadpanned. “It actually has nothing to do with what I’m feeling.” He paused to take a breath. “So how’s that working out for you?”

  
“What?”

  
“Being clever,” Luke snapped.

  
“Great,” Reid shot back, probably out of instinct.

  
He couldn’t keep up the stupid banter. “You. Should’ve. Told me,” Luke lowered his voice, his glare burrowing into Reid’s disinterested, confused eyes.

  
After a moment, Reid’s face ticked just a little, the only indication that he was unsettled. “About what?” he tried.

  
It just pissed Luke off that much more. “About what you really do two nights a week. About your stupid fight-”

  
“Hey,” Reid grabbed his arm, pulling him down the hall to an empty room. Luke let himself be led in, then wrenched his arm free as soon as they were inside. Reid sighed. “How did you find out?” his eyes drifted back in the direction of Dallas’s room.

  
Luke rolled his eyes. “Noah didn’t tell me. But you should have. You should have been honest with me.” It was his turn to sigh. “I followed you, okay? A couple weeks ago.”

  
“You followed me?” Reid echoed. “Weeks?”

  
“Yes,” he shot back, unrepentant. “I guess you’re not quite as clever as you thought. Uh-oh. The great Reid Oliver got outwitted by his dumb trophy blond of a boyfriend. That must be embarrassing.”

  
Reid held up a hand. “Look. I know you’re pissed at me, but you don’t have to act childish about it. Okay?”

  
“I am childish, aren’t I?” Luke tried to calm down, he really did. It just didn’t work. “Guess what. I’m twenty-one years old! I’m not an adult. Sometimes I’m not very responsible. Or mature. It happens. But at least I wouldn’t lie like this. You know nothing about being in a relationship. Maybe  _you_ need to grow up too.”

  
“Excuse me?” Reid stepped forward, his own voice rising, eyes narrowing.

  
Luke crossed his arms, defiant. “You’re damn right I’m pissed. You lied to me. You used the hospital to lie to me. You’re doing something I bet is illegal. You could jeopardize the wing- and the hospital- over this if you got caught.”

  
“What about me?” Reid asked quietly.

  
“What?” Luke asked, unsure of where this was going.

  
“Are you at all worried about me getting hurt? Jeopardizing myself? That didn’t seem to be on your list.”

  
“So, what,” Luke snapped. “This is all a cry for attention? A test for me?”

  
Reid snorted. “No, that’s not  _my_ style.”

  
That stopped Luke in his tracks. “What does that mean? You really better not be talking about me or-” he stopped.

  
Reid nodded. “Exactly. Is this really about me? Or is it about Noah?”

  
“Neither,” he answered immediately. “It’s about you and me. And how you kept this from me.” _Noah’s not your escape hatch from our conversations,_  he just barely managed to stop himself from saying.

  
Reid threw his hands up in frustration. “I don’t have to tell you every single thing, Luke. First and foremost, it’s my life. My choices, my decisions. That’s the way it’s always been.”

  
“We’re supposed to be a couple. That means we share things. We trust each other,” Luke argued, growing quiet. He was so tired all of a sudden. “Maybe you don’t have to tell me everything. But you don’t have to lie to me like you did. I always said about you, ‘at least he tells me things.’ I hate being wrong.”

  
Reid looked like he wanted to ask Luke who he had told that to. Luckily for both of them, he didn’t. Instead, “Well, I’m sorry, but there are sides of me you’re not going to be perfectly happy with. You’re going to have to deal with-”

  
“Sides? You’re like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Jackass!” Luke growled. “You think you can be as mean and inconsiderate as you want and everyone will just excuse it because it’s just ‘who you are,’” he used air quotes almost violently. “Maybe that’s not okay.”

  
“Luke,” Reid stared him down. “Just because there are parts of me you don’t like, it doesn’t mean you have a right to try to change them.”

  
“Aren’t relationships supposed to be about trying to encourage the other person to be the best he can?” Luke asked, plaintive. How had their conversation transitioned into this? Wasn’t this supposed to be about Reid lying to him?

  
“Aren’t they about accepting the other as he is?” Reid replied, completely calm.

  
“I don’t know,” Luke sighed. “I don’t know anymore.” They were at an impasse, a crossroads of some kind. He could feel it. Problem was, he didn’t know what was at the end of either way, which meant he didn’t know which way to go. He hated this feeling. Uncertainty wasn't exciting; it was punishing.

  
“People do it everyday,” Reid commented, almost offhand. “They see themselves as they’d like to be, what they think they should be. They just don’t have the courage you have to run with it.”

  
Luke rubbed at his face, feeling a headache coming on. “What do you mean?”

  
Reid stared him down. “Do you really not know, or just don’t want to hear it?”

  
“What are you, my therapist?” Luke snapped.

  
“Honestly? I don’t know what I am to you, Luke. Looking at actions, looking at words, I just don’t know,” Reid exhaled slowly.

  
He shook his head. “Reid. You knew my break up with Noah was messy and there were some unresolved f- issues there. You can’t all of a sudden pretend otherwise.”

  
“I’m not,” Reid argued. “I did know that. I’m just not sure  _you_ did. Or do. If you tell me, right now, that you don’t still love him, then you’re lying to me. And to yourself.”

  
“What?” Luke shook his head. “I’m not-”

  
“Luke,” Reid almost laughed, “You are. And hey, a big reason why you’re so miserable right now is because you’re fighting  _you._  Wake up, Snyder. We both need to. Neither of us are being the people we were when we first met. We’re not all that happy right now.”

  
“So it’s some chore being with me?” Luke couldn’t handle the words being thrown at him, so he latched onto the easiest defensive.

  
Reid just rolled his eyes. “Did I say that? What we have, Luke, it’s not bad. It could be great. But only if I can be with  _you._  With Luke Snyder. Not this poster boy, this walking Ken doll you’re making yourself into. You’re kidding yourself if you think you can force yourself into this shit.” Reid turned around to open the door. “And if the real you, the real Luke Snyder, is in love with someone else, then he shouldn’t be with me. So let me go, or let him go.”

  
Luke was getting tired of watching guys get the last word on him and walk away. And he was really tired of asking so many questions, and never getting answers. Maybe something had to change.

  
************

  
“Hey,” Noah entered the room after a quick knock. He held up his keys. “You ready to go?”

  
Dallas was already holding his bag, on his feet, almost bouncing. “Hell fucking yeah, I’m ready! Bust me out of here, man!”

  
Noah just shook his head, smiled so Dallas would think he was amused. He wasn’t. He’d been feeling sick every since that night Dallas got hurt. And since the morning after, when he had been stupid (again) and spilled all that crap to Luke. Fuck, he couldn’t believe he had told Luke he was still in love with him. How pathetic was that? Luke had already made it clear he was done with him, and yet Noah had still felt the urge to make an idiot of himself.

  
He shook himself free of those thoughts, walking with Dallas out to the Nurses’ Station so he could drop off release forms. Noah glanced around, out of habit, but Ali wasn’t there. She was mad at him again, but he couldn’t understand  _why_ anymore. It just made him confused and sick-feeling again.

  
They were walking out to the parking lot when Dallas let out a relieved sigh. “Man, I cannot  _wait_ to get to Al’s. I’m ordering everything on the breakfast menu. It’s going to be amazing.”

  
“Until you die of gluttony,” Noah pointed out as they climbed into his truck.

  
“It’s going to be amazing,” he reiterated, snorting at Noah’s skeptical look. “Hey, for awhile there it looked like I might only get to eat food through a straw for the rest of my life. This breakfast is going to taste better to me than any meal you’ve ever tasted.”

  
Noah narrowed his eyes a little. “Are you allowed to eat whatever so soon after getting out? Shouldn’t you be taking it easy right now?”

  
Dallas mock-glared. “Excuse me, Mr. Caretaker. Doctor said I had to avoid undue stress for awhile. Not bacon.”

  
Noah managed not to roll his eyes now. “I just think you should be careful for awhile. It’s not worth risking your job or, you know,  _life_  over.”

  
“I don’t know, Noah,” Dallas grinned again. “It’s pretty damn good bacon.” He took a breath. “Besides, I’m not going back to the club.”

  
Noah didn’t outwardly react, but part of him almost felt like stomping on the brakes. “What?”

  
Dallas’s smile was quieter now, kinder. “I’m not going to fight anymore. You’re right, it’s not worth the risk. And,” he turned in his seat, fully facing Noah. “And you shouldn’t either.”

  
Noah felt his jaw clench, his fingers tighten over the steering wheel. It actually surprised him, he didn’t know he could still physically react like that anymore. Except when Luke was involved. _How can he ignore me and still care about me? Why can’t he just hate me or love me? I don’t understand._  No. No.

  
Noah didn’t think about that anymore. Never again. It was easier that way.

  
Dallas continued talking, unaware of Noah’s thoughts. “It’s just... Noah, kid, every Tuesday and Friday I go to that room, part of me hopes you don’t show up. Sometimes I regret it. Bringing you into that place.”

  
Noah kept his voice calm, ignoring the faint voice in his head that normally would want to mock this  _Good Will Hunting_ moment. “Why?”

  
Dallas spoke gently, and Noah couldn’t tell yet if it was aggravating or working. “I just think you’re giving better advice than you’re taking for yourself. This isn’t right for you, Noah. Not worth risking your life over.”

 _  
What life?_  Noah wanted to ask. But he kept quiet. He kept calm. He was good at that, at least. His eyes on the road, periodically checking the rearview mirror. Hands at ten and two position on the steering wheel. Foot steady on the gas pedal. He was in control.

  
And yet somehow, Dallas was still talking. “The club is a drug, man. Nothing more. It’s there for an immediate rush and, I don’t know, gratification. But it’s not going to sustain you or give you whatever it is you’re looking for.”

  
“I’m not looking for anything,” Noah murmured, wondering how much of that was a lie and how much of that was sadly the truth.

  
“That’s not any better,” Dallas replied. “The other guys in the club use it as an escape from life, not a place to shut down  _for_ life. You’re fading, Noah. Fast. And it ain’t pretty. I know losing Luke must hurt, but-”

  
“No,” Noah didn’t know his voice could get quieter, but it did. And still somehow was enough to interrupt Dallas. “You don’t know what I’ve lost.”  _Luke. Family._ _Me._ _Home. Everything._

  
Dallas regarded him sadly, tilting his head in acknowledgement. “Okay. That’s probably true, though- I have to say- not for lack of trying on my part. I wish I could know what was going on inside your head sometimes. But Noah... this fighting won’t fix anything. It’s a drug. If you make it your life, you’re just going to end up crashing and burning like any other addict.”

  
It was on the tip of Noah’s tongue-  _So?_  But he didn’t say it. He didn’t want to give Dallas anything. He didn’t want to be here right now. Check the mirrors. Ten and two. Eyes on the road. He couldn’t do this right now.

  
Dallas apparently had had enough. He smacked his hand on the dashboard, barely wincing when it pulled at his own stiff and sore muscles. “Fuck, Noah. Do you not see the trouble you’re in? Don’t you want to get out of this mess?”

  
He felt compelled to answer, feeling Dallas’s almost desperate glare on him. The same look Ali had sometimes. What the hell was wrong with these people? “I don’t know.”

  
“Yes you do,” Dallas insisted. “Either you want to get better or you don’t. But you know. And I want to hear you say it, because I honestly don’t know what your answer will be.”

  
“I don’t know,” he tried to say again, hearing his voice slip. Damn it.

  
Dallas shook his head. “If what happened to me had happened to you, what would you do? How would you feel about your life?”

  
“I don’t know!” Noah was yelling suddenly. Thank God the ‘survival instincts’ part of his body got the car stopped and in park before he turned to glare at Dallas. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t feel anything good about my life, is that what you want to hear me say? Fine.”

  
“Not good enough,” Dallas tried to lean in as much as his healing ribs would allow. “You’re a good person, Noah. Too good for this. Don’t give in to it. Seriously. Please.”

  
Noah was staring straight ahead again. They were pulled over by just outside of Old Town. Next to the apartment complex where Dallas lived. The road in front of him just stretched on and on into the horizon. No end in sight. Noah stared at it until his eyes blurred and he had to blink quickly. He still panicked at that sometimes. Like a quick jolt to the heart-  _why can’t I see?_ \- but it always went away within a few seconds.

  
“Noah?” Dallas prodded.

  
He put the truck back into drive and made the turn into the parking lot, pulling up in front of Dallas’s door. “Do you need help getting inside?”

  
For a second Dallas looked immensely sad. But he just shook his head, picking up his bag from the floorboards at his feet. “No, man, I got it,” he said softly.

  
Noah nodded, still mostly facing forward. “Be careful. Have a good breakfast.” What else could he say? Or do? He liked Dallas- the guy didn’t patronize or bullshit him. But this, this was uncomfortably close to pity. And pity was stupid, because Noah thought he was doing a good enough job showing he didn’t care anymore. It all gave him a headache. He just wanted to go back to his bed and sleep the rest of the day away. Skip his classes, call out of work, forget the rest of the world existed...

  
************

  
Which is what he did. He made it back to the apartment either after Ali already left for work or before she got back from Casey’s. Either way, he was alone. He crawled sluggishly into his bed, kicking off his shoes but forgetting about the rest. Who cared if his shirt got wrinkled, right? He was suddenly exhausted, asleep within seconds of dropping his head to the pillow.

  
He was dreaming. He knew he was. It was one of those random flash of images things- like he used to have when he was blind. (As though the universe was just rubbing it in that he couldn’t see.) Images of Emma cooking, Aaron throwing a football around, Luke smirking at him, the girls playing ‘Excuse Me,’ Holden brushing down a horse, Luke again. Lily and Lucinda sharing a glass of wine together. Luke, Luke, Luke.

  
And then Noah himself. Fighting, always fighting. Someone yelling at him from off to the side, somewhere in the darkness surrounding him, but he couldn’t understand the words. He kept on fighting, attacking anything and anyone that came near him. Not letting them get close enough to do any damage to him. Protecting himself.

  
But something got through. Someone. They matched every punch he threw, getting closer and closer. He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let anyone get close. He fought harder, desperately. He didn’t know he could feel sick in a dream, but he was nauseous, shaking, weak. He couldn’t get rid of this person.

  
Slowly, slowly, the faceless person took shape. No matter how hard he hit, how loud he yelled, it was still there. He. The ‘it’ was a he. A random face, maybe the first guy he ever fought in the club. But then he was Dallas, eyes unhappy. Then Reid, unimpressed. Then Luke. And Noah tried to stop, but his fist kept on hitting. He was fighting Luke. And Luke didn’t stop either, uncaring.

  
In another blink, Luke was gone (thank God), and now the face was... his own. Noah was torn between wanting to throw up and wanting to hit harder than he’d ever hit before. He deserved it. He wanted it. Finally. He pulled back, preparing a knockout, a kill shot-

  
And he woke up.

  
Noah shoved himself upwards, sitting up with a hollow gasp. He tried to breathe deeply, slowly, tried to ignore the heaviness that was forming a cinderblock in his chest. He blinked hard, but his vision stayed blurry. And then he realized why- he was crying.

  
Fuck. He was crying? He didn’t cry. He wasn’t supposed to. But now he couldn’t stop, and the tears kept coming. Noah leaned back against his headboard, wiping at his face, trying to pretend it wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening.

  
It didn’t know how long he sat there, but finally he got his breathing back under control. His tears dried up soon after. Noah felt worn out, worse than after he’d been through a fight. Fuck. He hadn’t cried in a year, not since the last time he saw his father. He’d spent so long- all summer- pretending he felt nothing. Maybe something had to change.

 _  
I am Noah’s wasted life._


	4. I felt like destroying something beautiful.

He was sitting in the dark. Alone. Even in his current state, Noah could appreciate a thematic atmosphere like that. It’d make a good closing shot for a film. Like that movie Ali had been watching the other day- “ _Happy endings are just stories that haven’t finished yet._ ” He couldn’t remember what the movie was. That probably wasn’t a good sign.

  
His head hurt. A lot. He probably shouldn’t have fought tonight, but he couldn’t help it. He had needed it. After what... after everything, he had needed it.

  
It had been awhile since he’d lost a fight, but law of averages said it had to happen at some point. Tonight’s hadn’t been fun (not that it every really was), but luckily he had remembered to tap out before the guy could break his face. Little victories, he guessed.

  
And now here he was, back at the apartment. Alone. In the dark. He couldn’t bring himself to laugh, but the thought did cross his mind. That was something. He shook his head a little, wincing at the motion. He felt sick, like he had swallowed a pint of his own blood.

  
His head really hurt. Every time he fought, every time he got hit in the head, a part of him worried he was going to go blind again. But then, part of him wondered if maybe that was why he still did it. To tempt fate. Or to punish himself. Or just to stop the life he’s living right now. Sure, he hated himself when he was blind, but at least he had someone else looking out for him.

  
Now he had nothing. And it was his own fault. Didn’t that mean he deserved to suffer the consequences?

  
Funny thing was, he had planned on quitting. The talk with Dallas and the dream later had gotten to him. His friend (Dallas was his friend? When had that happened?) was right- fighting wasn’t going to keep him going.

  
But he was also right that it was a drug, and Noah was an addict. And hearing through hospital gossip that Luke had moved out of Lily’s house (despite Ali’s best efforts to stop that news from getting to him) sent him spiraling back into the club. He needed the fix. Because Luke _moving_ meant Luke was  _moving on._

  
If he could get himself to, Noah would probably feel ashamed of himself. Luke was moving on, being a grownup, while Noah was off in a corner throwing an elaborate temper tantrum. And if he could get himself to, he’d probably be angry at himself too, for still letting Luke affect him so much. But he couldn’t help it. What else did he have?

  
A knock at the door startled him out of his thoughts. At first he wanted to ignore it and hope it would go away- he was good at that- but another knock had him standing up moving almost instinctively. What is something had happened to Ali? Or what if Dallas had relapsed or something?

  
The second he stood he had to grab the back of the couch to steady himself.  _Whoa there_. The world tilted for a moment, and he had that heady rush of altitude change, like a plane taking off. _Or crashing._ He wobbled his way to the door, rolling his eyes at the plane metaphor. Though, there was something to be said for being on autopilot...

  
He opened the door slowly, only half-looking to see who it was. Until he saw him.

  
Luke.

  
“Hey,” Luke waved a hand cautiously, his other hand grasping a large plastic bag. “Can, um, can I come in?”

 _  
We have just lost cabin pressure._

  
“Luke?” he had to make sure this wasn’t a figment of his imagination. A hallucination. Maybe he was actually in the hospital, in a coma, and this was a dream...  _Except been there, done that, Mayer._

  
“Yeah,” Luke didn’t seem to mind confirming it was real. “I’m sorry I just, just showed up like this. But-”

  
“Oh, yeah, come in,” he fumbled backwards, allowing Luke into the apartment, leading him towards the living room.

  
Luke frowned a little as Noah flipped on the light switch. “Were you sleeping?”

  
“Um, no, I-” he shifted on his feet a little, scared and completely thrown by what was going on. _Why is he here?_  “I just got back. From-”

  
“Yeah,” Luke quietly interrupted him. “It’s Tuesday, isn’t it?” He smiled sadly at Noah, sitting down on the couch. “That’s why I’m here.”

  
“Why you’re here?” Noah repeated back.

  
Luke was still smiling, looking just as wary as Noah felt, and held up the plastic bag, pulling things out of it as he spoke. “I’ve got ice packs and bandages, ibuprofen, antiseptic stuff and whatever else I could find in Grandma’s medicine cabinet-”

  
“Luke...” Noah was more and more confused.

  
Luke continued like he hadn’t heard him, rambling now. “And I’ve got a bag of Reese’s Pieces, they’re still your favorite, right? I know they used to help whenever you were sick or cranky, so I figured maybe-”

  
“Luke,” Noah tried again.

  
“I hate this, Noah,” he stopped just that quickly, looking up at Noah with determination. “I hate it. I hate that no one takes care of you. I hate even more that  _I’m_ not taking care of you, and I...” he took a deep breath, his gaze never wavering. “I want that to change.”

  
“Y-you what?” Noah was frozen. This really was a messed-up dream, wasn’t it?

  
Luke tentatively patted the couch cushion next to him. “Sit with me? Please? I need to talk, to tell you some things.”

  
That autopilot was back in action, it was the only explanation, because a few seconds later Noah was sitting next to him. His hands were shaking. It felt like his  _brain_  was shaking. He eyed Luke, more and more freaked. This couldn’t mean what he thought (hoped) it did.

  
Luke picked up one of his hands, and they both started at the sensation. How long had it been since they had touched each other? Luke blinked, squeezing Noah’s hand, examining it. Then he pulled out some antiseptic wipes and a roll of bandages and gently started cleaning the cuts. “I was lying.”

  
Noah tensed. He wanted to pull his hand away from Luke, but he just couldn’t do it. “About what?”

  
“About me, mostly,” Luke shrugged one shoulder, his concentration still on Noah’s hand. “I never moved on, Noah. From us.”

  
“But you want to,” Noah murmured, wishing he could tear his eyes away from Luke, Luke’s hands, Luke’s hands on  _him._

  
“No,” Luke said forcefully. “I don’t want to. I thought I was supposed to. I had made that decision t-to not be with you, and I just got so stubborn and prideful about it.” He finished bandaging the one hand and switched over to the other. “I didn’t want to admit I made the wrong choice.”

  
“No one thought you made the wrong choice, Luke,” Noah protested. No one he knew, at least. Ali said what she could to try and make him feel better, but from what Noah had seen, nobody else really cared that he and Luke had broken up.

  
“Lots of people did,” Luke corrected, insisting. “But it was up to me to figure that out, and I ignored it for so long-  _too_ long. I looked more foolish playing make-believe like that instead of looking foolish going back on the decisions I’d made. I was trapped, yeah, but I trapped myself.”

  
Noah watched with wide eyes as he pulled out the ice pack in his bag, shaking it a little and then pressing it lightly to the side of Noah’s face. Still shocked, he let Luke pick up his hand again and guide it to hold the ice pack in place over a few bruises. “I don’t understand,” he said carefully. He was so  _not_ going to get his hopes up. Not this time.

  
Luke was still trying to smile, though his eyes were tracking over Noah’s face and arms, stopping at every cut and bruise along the way. “I’m sorry for the things I’ve been saying lately. I didn’t mean them. That we’re not right for each other? That Reid deserved that chance over you, after everything we’ve been to each other? That could never be true, Noah. I’m sorry I made it seem that way.” He chuckled a little, shaking his head. “I’ve been fighting with myself a lot lately. In my head. I think it was time to let the better half win.”

  
Noah couldn’t help it, he flinched a little at those words. It reminded him way too much of his dream the other night. Everything in him right now was telling him to pull away, to shut down, to get out of this before it got bad again. He closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths.  _No._

  
“Hey,” Luke’s hand ran lightly through his hair, pulling him out of his thoughts. He opened his eyes to look into Luke’s worried ones. “You’ve been gone for too long, Noah. Don’t go away anymore, okay?”

  
He shuddered, biting his lip to keep control. This was unreal. This couldn’t be happening.  _I may not always like what Reid thinks or has to say, but at least he lets me know what’s going on his head!_ That’s what Luke had said at Java. And he owed Luke at least that much, right? “I was trapped too,” he whispered.

  
Luke’s hand stilled, resting on the back of his head. “What?”

  
“I’ve been, I don’t know, like this, and everything is... I don’t have a right to grieve because most of these problems are my fault. But I was mad at you too, and I couldn’t fight you. And I couldn’t get myself to fight  _for_  you. So I fought anyone who would take a swing at me. It helped,” he said with a shrug.

  
“It wasn’t all your fault,” Luke ducked his head a little to catch Noah’s eyes once more. “What happened between us this year? It wasn’t a breakup. It was a fuckup. We fucked up royally, Mayer. But... but we still love each other, right?”

  
“Right,” Noah found himself answering without thinking, without questioning, without worrying.

  
And Luke smiled, genuine and happy and relieved, and Noah wanted to keep that look around forever. “After everything, we still love each other. That kinda means something, doesn’t it? It means there’s every chance of us getting back what we had, maybe even better, and I want that to happen.” He dropped the bag of Reese’s Pieces into Noah’s lap. “I want for you to be happy again, to smile. To  _feel good._  I want to help you find... you, I guess. And I think doing that will help me find me.”

  
Noah was silent for a moment, studying him. “This isn’t right,” he finally said, quieter than he intended.

  
Luke frowned. “What isn’t?”

  
Slowly, hands still shaking a little, he grabbed Luke’s, holding it the way he always used to. “This. You apologizing, and coming over here with this speech, and wanting to help me. You- it should be me. I should be wooing you back, notes and flowers and stuff.”

  
Luke broke into that giant beautiful grin, his free hand carding through Noah’s hair again. “Wooing me?” he echoed, just this side of teasing.

  
The warmth spreading across Noah’s face was such a foreign feeling, Noah almost didn’t know what it was. Then he realized he was blushing. “I should,” he insisted stubbornly. “I should have flowers or... or something.” He looked around as though the answer would be there. Finally, maybe desperate, he offered the Reese’s Pieces to him. “It’s all I have,” he mumbled.

  
Luke’s eyes lit up, his smile turning into something like Ethan’s ( _God,_  Noah missed Ethan)- sweet and silly and the purest of feelings- and he put his hand on Noah’s, curling their fingers together. “You have  _you_ ,” he said softly. “That’s what I want.” And then he leaned in and pressed his mouth to Noah’s.

  
As far as kisses go, it wasn’t their most spectacular. The lightest touch of their lips together, hands linked, bodies barely grazing.

  
And it was so, so perfect.

  
Noah couldn’t help but melt into it, leaning forward into Luke’s chest to keep himself upright. He was shaking again. Part of his brain was screaming at him to get out, get himself away, protect himself. That this wouldn’t last, this would only kill him.

  
And then Luke was cradling his face with both hands, slowly parting Noah’s lips with a swipe of his tongue... and Noah shattered. That was the only way to describe how it felt. The noise he made was somewhere between a sigh and a sob, and he clutched at Luke’s shirt like it was a life vest. And it was. Noah didn’t want to drown. He didn’t want to let go.

  
“Easy, easy,” Luke murmured against his mouth, his own hands gentling along Noah’s face. “It’s okay,” he rested their foreheads together. Another quick kiss, just quick enough to leave Noah wanting more, and he pulled back again. “It’s okay.”

  
“It’s not,” Noah replied brokenly. “It’s not okay.  _I’m_ not okay. I’m sorry, Luke, I’m... I’m so messed up. I’m sorry-”

  
“Hey,” Luke drew his face up so they were eye-to-eye. It had been way too long since they were eye-to-eye on anything. “I know you’re sorry. And I’m sorry too, for my part. But if we keep fixating on that, we’re never going to  _fix_  it. I came over here tonight to starting fixing things.”

  
Noah relaxed a little, smoothing his hands over Luke’s shirt where he had been grabbing it, trying idly to get rid of the wrinkles. “I’m, uh...” he offered a weak upturn of his lips, tilting his head a little. “I’m going to need help. With that.”

  
Luke smiled happily, looking relieved. “I’m going to need to be the one to help you. So you better be okay with  _that_.”

  
He smiled too, feeling it stretch the muscles on his face he hadn’t used in what felt like years. He was really smiling. “Yeah, yeah I am.” He leaned in close, and Luke moved in to meet him for another kiss. “I’m not going to go back,” he said, once they parted. “On Friday.”

  
Luke knew what he was trying to say. “Good.” It was one word, but he put everything into it. And then smirked a little, his eyes flashing mischievously, in that way that made Noah’s heart beat insanely fast. “Because I broke up with Reid not too long ago and if he’s still going I’m sure he’d love the chance to fight right now.”

  
Noah couldn’t help but frown, narrow his eyes a little. “I don’t care. And I could beat him again if I wanted to,” he grumbled.

  
“Again?!” Luke pulled back some, eyes wide. “What the hell does that mean? Did you two-”

  
Instead of answering, instead of letting Luke finish the question, Noah found a way to distract him. Found the  _best_ way to distract him. Part of him was scared; it had been so long, he wasn’t sure if he'd know how to kiss Luke anymore. But it turned out that being with Luke Snyder was one thing his body would never forget how to do.

  
He brought his hands up to frame Luke’s face, both of them leaning back to rest against the couch cushions. Luke chuckled when he finally stopped to catch his breath. “I’m well aware that that was a ploy,” he said lightly, his fingers twisting and twirling Noah’s hair. Another wall inside Noah crumbled away at that feeling. “But right now I think I’m okay with that.”

  
“So I can, um,” Noah ducked his head, feeling ridiculous, but feeling like he had to ask. “I can do it again?”

  
Luke stared at him like he’d just said the dumbest thing in the world (Noah remembered that look, and maybe another wall started to crack and tumble down), before wrapping his arms around Noah’s neck. “Oh, God yes.”

  
************

  
Ali was worried for a second when she stepped inside the apartment, because the living room light was on. Noah  _never_  left a light on. When he was home, he was usually hidden away in his own room, never where Ali could see him. And with the way he had been lately, she was within her right to assume something might be wrong right now.

  
She hurried into the living room, about to yell out his name, when she saw them on the couch. She skidded to a halt, barely catching the wall next to her for support. “Oh thank God,” she couldn’t help but sigh out loud.

  
They were together. On the couch. Noah, with Luke. Luke and Noah. Together.  _Oh thank God_. Both were asleep sitting up, Luke curled around Noah’s side, arms wrapped around him, head against his chest. Noah’s head was resting against the back of the couch, tilted a little into Luke’s body.

  
He had new bruises on his face, she realized with a frown. And a scrape or two. But she could also see bandages around his hands, a band-covering a cut on his temple. The coffee table was littered with ice packs and band-aid wrappers and an empty bag of Reese’s Pieces. She put a hand to her forehead, trying to calm herself down. Noah was going to get better now. He had to.

  
“Alison?” a voice murmured groggily.

  
She looked up at the couch again. Luke was twisting around, eyeing her cautiously. She let out a quiet sigh, smiling slightly, waving. “Hey,” she whispered.

  
Luke smiled back, looking a little embarrassed, and carefully pulled himself away from Noah. He froze when Noah shifted a little, but a soft kiss to his forehead kept him from waking up. (Another  _thank God_  moment, Ali noted. Noah never got enough sleep. He was way too ‘up at the crack of dawn’ in her opinion.) “Kitchen?” Luke suggested quietly.

  
“Kitchen,” she agreed, just as quiet. She led the way into the other room, making sure to dim the living room lights on her way out. The second they were clear, she whipped around, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well?”

  
Luke chewed at his lower lip for a second before answering. “We’re working things out. I mean, I’m pretty sure we’re getting back together. I just... I don’t want him to hurt anymore. And I hurt without him, so...”

  
She nodded, trying to keep her face stern and not jump for joy or squeal like a teenager. “It’s about damn time you did something. Casey was two days away from hunting you down and kicking your ass into gear.”

  
He chuckled softtly, rubbing the side of his face. “And what about you?”

  
She smiled some then. “Less than two days.”

  
The tension that she didn’t want to admit had been there was slowly easing away. The logical part of her brain knew their breakup had been full of mistakes on both sides, but having a front row seat to Noah’s suffering all this summer had left Ali a little angry on his behalf. And the fact that Noah just couldn’t seem to understand how much she cared, and  _why_ she cared, had been as upsetting as anything else. She had wanted to blame Luke for that, for Noah feeling that way.

  
She leaned back against the cabinets. “You know what’s going on, whatever it is, don’t you? Why he has all those bruises and stuff?”

  
Luke regarded her seriously. “Yeah. I do.”

  
“Okay,” she nodded. “I don’t need to know everything, that’s fine. As long as I can know it’s over. That he’s...” she trailed off.

  
Luke got it though. “It’s over,” he promised. “He told me it was, and I’m going to make sure it stays that way.”

  
The way he said it reminded her so much of Noah last year, swearing he would make sure Luke didn’t drink ever again. She couldn’t help but smile. They loved each other. To a ridiculous degree. She was beyond grateful that that hadn’t- couldn’t- change. “Good,” she nodded.

  
Luke glanced back towards the living room. “He doesn’t have much in his system right now besides water and ibuprofen, but he’s pretty tired. I want him to sleep as much as possible, but after that-”

  
Ali held up a hand. “Hey, whatever you want to do is fine with me. I’m just grabbing a change of clothes and then I’m heading out, okay?”

  
He smiled brightly now, a smile she hadn’t seen on him in  _months._  It made her a little sad even as she couldn’t help but smile back. Luke had been suffering too. Thank God that was going to change now. “Okay,” he replied. “Well then, um, I guess we’ll be here?”

  
“Good to know.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek quickly, heading to her bedroom. “Give me five minutes to get out of your way. I’ll be sure to tell Casey the good news, although...” she winked at him. “I think he was looking forward to kicking your ass.”

  
Luke smirked back. “Let him try.” Another glance into the living room. “He knows where to find me now. I’ll be here.”

  
************  
 

He couldn’t get back to sleep after Alison left, so instead he settled onto the couch, easing down next to Noah again, studying him. Noah was curled in on himself a little, arms held in close to his body, face still and calm. So beautiful, and yet so scary. It reminded Luke just a little too much of the way Noah had been acting lately, and he shuddered.

  
Luke lightly traced the outline of Noah’s bruised jaw with his fingertips. He couldn’t imagine life like that, where the only thing you let yourself feel was physical pain. Where the only human contact you let yourself have (no friends, no family, no boyfriend) was a twice-a-week opportunity for someone to beat the shit out of you.

  
Noah shifted under his touch, eyes fluttering a few times before opening fully. He tensed for a second when he realized someone was close to him, relaxing once he recognized Luke. Another thing that scared him. Noah was fighting a lot of instincts to hide away right now. There wasn’t going to be some magical cure, for either of them.

  
For just a moment, it seemed like a daunting amount of work, to get them back on stable ground again. They could both crash and burn at any moment. But then Noah reached out and carefully took his hand, the hand wearing the watch.  _Worth the wait._  And god, Noah- and Noah and him together- was worth more than a wait. They could do this.

  
“Hey,” he said softly, squeezing their hands together.

  
“Hey,” Noah said back, smiling crookedly.

  
Luke leaned in and kissed him, just enough to get a taste. “How’re you feeling?”

  
Noah shrugged, still rubbing his fingers along Luke’s. “Okay.”

  
“Oh please,” he snorted. “I’m calling bullshit on that. There’s no way you can be feeling good right now.”

  
Noah raised one eyebrow, and that combined with his half-smile had Luke dancing on the inside.  _There he is._  “I don’t know, part of me feels  _really_  really good right now.”

  
“Really?” Luke drew the word out slowly with a sly grin of his own. He crept in closer, nudging Noah’s knee with his.

  
Noah just nodded. Almost tentative at first, he reached out his free hand and brushed the hair back from Luke’s forehead, trailing down to cup the side of his face. His skin was somehow soft and perfect, even covered in bandages and scrapes. Luke leaned into the touch, keeping quiet for now. Letting Noah get whatever he needed.

  
What Noah needed, apparently, was Luke. His hand slid around to the back of Luke’s hand and pulled him in for another kiss, deeper this time, his movements finally ringing with confidence. Luke smiled even as he opened his mouth wider into it, their tongues meeting, chests meeting, everything coming together.

  
Instinctively, he slid a hand down Noah’s chest to his stomach, twisting his fingers into the hem of his shirt. As it all intensified between them, Noah giving that little hum from the back of his throat, tightening his grip on Luke’s hair, Luke half-crawled into his lap, slipping both hands under the t-shirt now, laying them flat against hard muscle, warm skin. Noah pulled him in closer.

  
Luke sat back just enough to yank Noah’s shirt up and over his head. His focus went immediately back to Noah’s mouth... until he got a good look at his torso. “Jesus, Noah.” Those ‘ripped as all fuck’ muscles he remembered from the night sneaking into the fight club were there, but more purple-black bruises were splashed across that canvas. “Are you sure you’re-”

  
“It’s fine,” Noah spoke quickly, words clipped and nervous. “I don’t even feel it anymore. You don’t, Luke,” he drew Luke’s gaze back up to him. “You don’t have to look at it. At me, like this. It’s ugly and I’m... it’s not what I want you to see.”

  
Luke gently touched the worst of the bruises, the ones that looked kinda like a foot print. (Someone had kicked him, repeatedly.) Then he looked back up. “Baby, I want you to listen to me very carefully.”

  
“Okay,” he said warily.

  
“My eyes are open,” Luke told him, voice firm. “I’m seeing you. Yeah, this is a part of you and yeah, it sucks. But looking at you? I see more than that.” He dropped his voice lower. “And there’s very very  _very_ little of it that’s ugly.”

  
Noah stared at him for a moment, studying him with a very knowing gaze. “But?” he prompted.

  
Luke almost smiled.  _Oh, how well you know me._  He settled a little more onto the couch. “We’re not going to have sex tonight.”

  
His eyes widened. “Okay,” Noah drew the word out, unsure.

  
“Not tonight,” Luke continued. “For one thing, your ribs look kinda, um, busted. And sorry, punctured lungs aren't sexy. And second... we need to make things right, really right, between us first. Sex was never just about sex for us, and I don’t want that to start now.”

  
Noah flinched hard, as though he’d been hit. It made Luke want to flinch too. “This isn’t because of, um, what I told you before, is it? About me sleeping with other-”

  
“No, baby, no,” he captured Noah’s face in both hands, kissing him quickly, reassuringly. “This isn’t punishment. This is... to be better, okay? If that makes sense? Because I know you’re still fighting against locking yourself away from me and everything,” the grimace Noah tried to hide told him he was right. “And I’m pretty sure you were using sex as that kind of escape too, right?”

  
“Maybe,” Noah mumbled, hesitant, uncomfortable.

  
Luke could relate, it wasn’t like he  _wanted_  to talk (or think) about Noah sleeping with other guys, but he wasn’t going to sweep it under the rug either. Because they were going to get this right. “When we’re together, like that, I don’t want to risk you going away,” he whispered.

  
Noah winced again. “I’m sorry.”

  
And Luke wanted to roll his eyes. “Hey. It’s not all your fault. I kinda fucked things up too, didn’t I? I never slept with Reid because he and I didn’t have that... that connection. I didn’t trust that part of me with him. But you and I? I trust you. I trust all of you, and I trust  _me_ with you.”

  
“You never slept with him?” Noah’s voice was small.

  
“I told you we hadn’t,” Luke reminded gently.

  
“But that was then, and...” Noah furrowed his brow, confused. “I figured, when you moved in with him, that that meant...”

  
“When I what?” it was Luke’s turn to be confused.

  
His face flushing pink, Noah tried to explain. “Last time I was at the hospital, I heard that you moved out of your mom’s house.”

  
And then Luke had to smile. Because of course, in this town and this crazy universe,  _that’s_ the news that Noah would hear. “Yeah, I moved out of Madness Mansion. Into my own place.” He softened his voice. “I got my own apartment.”

  
“You did?”

  
“Yeah,” he grinned then. “If I’m gonna think like an adult and demand to be treated like one, I have to start acting like one, right? And part of that is not pretending I’m still sixteen and should have all those things done for me.”

  
Noah smiled at him now, wide and proud. “And was it Lucinda or Holden who gave you that little speech?”

  
He glared good-naturedly. “Maybe a combination of the two,” he admitted. “But the point is,” he sat back on the couch, pulling Noah close to rest against him. “There’s stuff I have to work on too. And when we’re ready,” he propped his chin on Noah’s shoulder, raising his eyebrows. “I have a nice empty apartment for us to celebrate.

  
Noah tilted his head to the side, leaning it against Luke’s. “I thought about that,” he said quietly, more to himself than to Luke.

  
“About what?” Luke wrapped his arms around Noah’s middle and pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck.

  
Noah brought his hands up to clasp with Luke’s. “An apartment.”

  
“For you?” Luke frowned a little, confused. Noah and Alison seemed to work well as roommates, and he knew Noah didn’t exactly have a lot of money, he couldn’t see why Noah would want to-

  
“For us,” he corrected quietly. “I didn’t think about it a lot, didn’t  _let_  myself, I guess, but every once in awhile? Yeah. I thought about us getting back together, and moving in together, into a new place. And this time we’d make sure the refrigerator didn’t leak, and make sure the batteries in the smoke detectors were new, and we’d know where the circuit breaker is  _before_ the first blackout...” he trailed off.

  
“You thought about that stuff?” Luke kept the tremble out of his voice, he was pretty sure.

  
Noah nodded just a little, avoiding his gaze. “Sometimes. I usually tried to, to plan ahead for _me_ , but...” he smiled. “But somehow you always showed up. Like I couldn’t imagine any of those things without you being a part of it too.”

  
Luke was pretty sure it was his whole chest, not just his heart, that started pounding. He slid one hand up to Noah’s cheek, turning his head to face him directly. “Sometimes I wonder just who you really are, Noah Mayer. And how we could go through all the things we’ve gone through, and you’d still be here.”

  
Noah struggled with how to answer that, then shrugged. “You met me at a very strange time in my life,” he said, still smiling. And then he leaned forward, and Luke moved to meet him. And when they kissed this time, it was like the world exploding around them.

 **THE END**


End file.
